Two Paths Crossed
by Knight's Queen
Summary: While out on a scouting mission Tristan is suddenly ambushed by a Woad party,critically wounded. Norrowly escaping he falls off a cliff into a river and is washed  north of the wall in Woad country. He is found by a woman some say is a witch.
1. What Washes Ashore

**Disclaimer: Touchstone Pictures owns them I don't…I own mine they don't**

**This story takes place at three years before the movie.**

**Màthair- old gaelic for mother**

**Cù gaelic for dog**

**Selchie- gaelic for seal**

**"Folk tales about seals, who come ashore, shed their skins and take human form. These stories often weave tragic romantic themes of silkie lovers who must don their skins and return to the sea; and of the human lovers who hide the skins so that the silkie becomes a prisoner of the land." found on a website about silkie folklore**

**IF you want to see how I see my characters...or in other words as the topic of conversation went a few weeks ago- "Ok,Laura who would you have play "so and so" when the stories become movies"- so on my profile there is a link to my "Here is how I see Them" blog- enjoy... My daughter and I had a blast hunting who we thought best fit the characters...**

**Chapter 1: What Washes Ashore**

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><p>The rolling white caps of the stream's icy water rushed through her hands. Standing knee deep in the rushing current legs apart and slightly bent, hands cupped in front of her, she poised herself.<p>

_Steady_ she thought as her eyes caught the darkened flicker of an image beneath the current's rage. Swiftly her hands gripped in an attempt to grasp the oncoming fish. Mumbling tersely under her breath as her prey slipped through her hands once again, she bit her lower lip in disgust. As a deep breath escaped from her mouth she gripped her thick ebony colored hair behind her neck in frustration. Her eyes titled towards the sky she slowly reached in the pocket of her apron, and retrieved a black ribbon. She tied her long hair behind her making a tight knot, then a bow.

Muffled giggles rolled from the stream's bank. Quickly turning her head the woman cast a sharp glance toward the small figure sitting on the water's edge under the large tree.

"Perhaps you think you can do better?" she mocked her hands now placed firmly on her hips "Come in and try then" she smiled softly at her daughter.

The child shook her head as her small hands covered her mouth; her dark eyes sparkled with delight and the purity of innocence. Her deep indigo colored dress covered her bent legs, her bare feet firmly planted on the thick grass where she sat. Her chin rested on her knee caps.

Taking a deep breath the woman continued with her mission of catching supper for their evening's meal. Suddenly she lost her footing slipping backwards into the water.

"Ugh" she loudly groaned as she sat waist deep in the frigid water.

Falling back the young dark haired girl kicked her legs in the air, as she laughed robustly out loud. Her laughter echoed angelically over the flowing ripples. Holding her stomach she rolled and rolled in the soft grass beneath her body.

"Rowan…." her mother chuckled as she sat in the water.

Still laughing the child jumped up. Hand across her belly her body bent with her arm strecthed out finger pointing at her mother, the young girl continued her laughter. Suddenly and without warning she turned her head. Her attetnion was diverted by the sound of Cu, her dog barking not far off by the stream's edge. The child turned around and began making her way. She skipped off in the direction of her barking puppy, her attention so easily deferred at seven years of age.

The lithe woman stood up more determined than ever as she steadied herself and continued with her task. Bracing herself on the rocks beneath her bare feet she focused as another fish came toward her. Swiftly and with great concentration she succeeded. Pulling a medium size trout from the water she smiled triumphantly. Raising her prize high in the air she let out a whoop.

Suddenly she heard her daughter's voice calling her. Turning in the direction of the voice the woman stood straight stretching her body higher. Her brows knitted as she caught the image of her daughter near the water's edge just upstream from where she stood.

"Màthair" urgently called the child "Màthair, come."

The dark haired woman quickly made her way to the bank, tossing the fish onto the grass as she stepped out of the water. Gathering the soaked material of her dark green dress the woman hurried toward the calls of her daughter. Her heart raced as she heard the concern in her voice once again.

"Màthair, come, hurry" the child was running toward the protection of her mother.

Reaching her mother the girl wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

"What is it Rowan?" she inquired as her hands braced against the child's back.

"Come màthair, see what **Cù** has found" taking her mother's hand the child pulled anixously in the direction of the barking animal.

"Alright I am coming child, what is it" following her lead "Is it a frog again? Or has he perhaps found a turtle this time?" she continued with amuzement.

"No…no….come see… màthair….come quick….you will never believe!" The child repeated with great excitment.

The pair came to the place where the dog was barking and yipping as it circled its find. Coming to a sudden halt the woman grabbed her child flinging it behind her in protection.

"Rowan, stay behind me girl." She commanded quietly "Cu, hush come away from there."

The dog continued to bark and yip at his find. Taking a few cautious steps toward the dog the woman knelt down. The dog ran circles around her finally slipping its head between her arm as it climbed into her lap. Rowan slowly crept behind her mother. Making her way to the other side of her mother she too knelt down.

"Màthair" she whispered tenderly as her dark eyes widened.

"Rowan, take Cu and stand back" she said as she placed a protective arm across her child.

Slowly standing the young woman carefully made her way toward the figure that lay faced down at the water's edge. It was the figure of a man. Bending down next to him the woman cautiously leaned over his body observing carefully, cautiously.

"Is he dead màthair?" the child whispered.

Gingerly the woman pushed back the wet dark braided hair that covered the stranger's face. For a moment she stared at the tribal markings that adorned his cheek. Tenderly she placed her fingers on the tribal markings; his skin was cold to her touch. Leaning her head close to his back she placed her ear upon his soaked garments in an attempt to hear breathing. HSe placed two fingers on his juggular to feel a pulse. Lifting her head she turned to her daughter.

"No petal he lives…..but barely" she said reassuring the frightened child "Come we must go to the cottage. We need to fetch something to haul him back with."

Taking her daughter's hand the pair quickly made their way back to their cottage just in the clearing ahead. They were followed closely by Cu.

"Where did he come from?" the child quizzically asked.

"I do not know…he does not look as though he is from around here that is for certain." her mind raced with adrenaline as she wondered what trouble this stranger would bring to her doorstep.

"I think he is a selchie man, don't you" the child said.

"No Rowan….there is no such creature." She chuckled and smiled at her daughter placing her finger on the tip of the child's nose and giggled it lovingly.

"I have heard them say that you are a selchie woman….. màthair" she continued to chatter as the neared the cottage trying to keep the fast pace of her mother's stride.

The young dark haired woman stopped, turned then bent down so that she would be face to face with her child. Taking Rowan's hands in hers she braced her head next to her daughter's forhead.

"I have heard them say I am a witch as well. Do you believe that also Rowan?"

Looking into her daughter's face the child shook her head as she smiled.

"You do not truly believe that I was once a seal do you?" she asked, her coal black eyes staring into the dark eyes of her daughter "Rather silly do you not think so? A person who was once a seal? Can you just imagine?" smiling she cupped her daughter's face and placed a kiss on her nose "Come now…we must tend to this man or he may die."

Taking the child by the hand once again the pair continued to the cottage. Once there they gathered a large pelt made of several deer skins, rope and their small horse that she came from her island home way in the north sea. Making their way back to the stream's bank the two made no hast in preparing a make shift stretcher. Placing the skins near the patient the woman made her way to one side of the man. Looking at her daughter she took a deep breath.

"Rowan…we need to roll him onto the skins…can you help me?" she said smiling at the child "Come to this side down by his boots."

The child did as she was instructed, kneeling down next to the man's knees.

"Alright, when I say go we will roll him over."

"Yes màthair…. I am strong…I can help you!"

"Yes petal you are…here we go…we must be careful for I do not know to what extent his injuries are. Alright one…two…three… roll him" she said.

With a great amount of effort the mother and child rolled the injured man over on his back. Once on his back the woman heard a gasp come from the child.

"He is bleeding….and he has bad cuts look at his leg" she whimpered looking at her tiny hands now covered with the blood from the stanger.

"It will be alright child. He has wounds but I am a good healer I will mend him." She said reassuring her daughter even though she was not sure he would survive "Come we must roll him once more so he is in the middle of the skins. Then we must make hast in getting him to the cottage."

Rolling him over once again so that he was secure in the middle of the skins the pair hooked the stretcher to the horse with ropes and made their way to the cottage. Rowan walked by the man as her mother led the horse slowly. Once at the cottage she had Rowan hold open the door as she led the horse in through the opening. Making a circle around the center post the horse was brought to a halt and unhitched. Taking the horse back outside the steed was placed in the small stable.

As she made her way back to the cottage a loud screech was heard from above. Looking up the woman gazed at a circling hawk. It struck her as odd that the bird hovered over the house as it did.

Entering the cottage the woman began to collect the items she would need to care for this wounded stranger. She had a bad feeling about it all but she was sworn to heal those in need and so she must regaurdless of her fears.

Once all the herbs, salves, ointments, bandages, cloths and a bowl of hot water was collected she made her way to the patient.

"Rowan…fetch some blankets please." She instructed the child.

Obediently the child gathered blankets from a off the beds and returned to her mother. The blankets were placed next to her mother on the floor. Rowan sat down next to her mother near the strangers face.

"Look màthair... look upon his face...what do you think those markings are from?" she asked as she reached her fingers out to touch him

"I do not know...but I am sure they are his tribal markings." she said.

"Yes he is difinitely a selchie" the child said with assurity.

"Rowan, you must go outside now and play. Take Cu with you."

"But I want to help you màthair…I found him...he is mine." she protested.

"Rowan he is a man not some wounded animal you have rescued… you are not going to keep him to add to your collection. We have enough strays around here as it is child. We cannot and will not keep him! Now you must go outside for I have to remove his clothing in order to tend to his wounds and clean him up. Mind me child…mind what I say…" she said sternly.

"Come on Cu we always have to go outside when there is fun work to be done." the child marched off with folded arms in a rather defiant huff.

Taking a deep breath she began her work. She began by removing his soaked boats first. Next she untied his armor plate and removed it over his head. Unfastening his belt then his tunic was removed. Sitting there her hands in her lap she cast her eyes upon his blood drenched shirt. It was amazing to her that he was still alive at all with all the blood he surely lost. Taking her dagger she ripped his shirt up the middle pulling it to the side over his shoulders. Turning him to one side then the next she managed to remove his shirt. Rubbing her hands together as she took a deep breath. Trousers...now for the trousers she thought. She took to loosening the laces of his breeches slowly rolling them down over his hips. She straddled herself over his knees shifting the material of his trousers from side to side as she scooted them down farther along his legs. Soon enough she had his trousers off. They were wet, blood soaked and dirty as was the rest of him.

Once his clothing was removed she cast her eyes upon his bloodied body. There was a deep gash on his upper right thigh, two on his chest, one just above his right pectoral and the deepest one on the lower left side of his ribs. She immediately began work on cleaning the man up so she would be able to see the true extent of his injuries.

After cleaning his body she began placing the herbed salves and ointments on his wounds, stitching up the deeper gashes which were apparently made from a sword, she carefully covered them with bandages. Now that the urgency of mending to his wounds was complete Fiona sat quietly surrounded by bloodied cloths and his discarded clothing. She looked down at her hands red with blood, her dress covered with the same deep dark scarlet color.

Who was he and where did he come from? She gazed into his face and glanced down his long lean yet muscularly toned body. He was a warrior for that she was certain judging from all his old scars. And certain she was that he would bring trouble to her door.

Once all the wounds were tended to he was covered with blankets over his body to keep him warm.

She took a deep breath, stood up and went to change and clean herself up.

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><p>Supper was prepared and the two women ate their food quietly.<p>

Rowan was fidgity, unable to keep her eyes off the stranger whos body lay on the floor near the fire. After the meal was consumed the child went to the stranger and sat down beside him as her mother cleaned the night's dishes.

"I still say he is a selchie man màthair" she whispered as she sat next to him leaning close to his face.

To be continued….


	2. Awakening

**Disclaimer: the usual**

**Notes:**

Sèitheach is pronounced "Shay uch" and it is Gaelic for wolf

**Chapter 2: Awakening**

It had been over a week's passing since this stranger washed ashore on the banks near their cottage. Nearly a week and he drifted in and out of consciousness. His wounds were healing well enough; the knot on the side of his head had gone down considerably. He moaned, he mumbled but still he had not woken, and she wished he would. If she were being truthful, it was more a desire than a wish. She desired he would wake and leave them in peace. It was dangerous having him here.

If Sèitheach and his clan came looking for him, she would pay dearly for helping him, whoever he was. Sèitheach was a great warrior chieftain who led fierce raids against the Romans. He had even joined forces once with Merlin who was said to be a dark wizard. He was not a man to reckon with. He was tall, broad shouldered and with strong large hands. She had seen him crush the very neck of a man once with one hand. Sèitheach's hair was near to his waist, black as the night sky. His eyes were dark and unforgiving. His face bore a long scar across his left cheek from an encounter with a Sarmatian knight when he was but eighteen seasons.

He was the one man who never feared her so called witchcraft. More than likely it intrigued him, seemingly giving him power when he took her. And he would take her when the mood struck him, even when Rowan was about. When she sensed him coming or heard the powerful thunder of the horse hooves she would make her daughter hide in the herb storage, which was located beneath the floor boards near the hearth. Fiona dug the pit herself to protect and hide her daughter more than for storage of the herbs. She would tell Rowan to hide, cover her ears, close her eyes tight, and to hum the song of the sea in her mind loudly until her mother came for her. She would obey for she feared Sèitheach and his kind.

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The warm soapy water felt good to her hands. She dipped the rag in the bucket again and began washing his left arm. He was fit that was for sure she thought making circular movements around his forearm down to his wrist. He hand nice hands, strong hands, long fingers…she lingered too long washing them

Who was this man, this stranger who occupied space on her floor, commanding her attention both day and night? _Where did he come from_? This question plagued her mind as she sat next to him on the pallet. He was not from here, Britain, of that she was certain. She closed her eyes tightly hoping her thoughts that he was a knight from the great wall were wrong. Even though she knew he probably was. He was dangerous to have here and must leave.

Kneeling at his ankles she poured oil in the palm of her hand as she slowly rubbed them together, ensuring that the friction heated the oils. Fiona began at his feet, rubbing the essential healing oils she made her way over his body. She knew the importance of the massage when a person lay for a long time. The body would naturally begin to shut down, massaging kept the senses and muscles stimulated and strengthened. His body was beautiful even with all the scars that covered it._ Focus _-she told herself over and over as her hand glided over his muscular physique. _He is dangerous; keep your distance,_ she reminded herself.

Keeping her mind on the task set before her she once again resumed control over herself.

It had been a long time since she lay with a man of her choosing, of her own desire. It had not been so of those who took what they willed. Having the notoriety of being a witch had helped since coming to these parts. She was left alone for the most part out of fear of placing a curse on the clans. But it was not so for Sèitheach. He had come for her, to take her at his will. She loathed him wished that she truly were a witch to cast some evil spell upon him.

Coming out of her thoughts of Sèitheach her face bore a slight smile. She allowed her eyes to slowly cast themselves down along the length of his entire naked body. Her finger tips barely touching his skin as they trailed from his shoulder down the length of his arm. She felt a warm flush cross her cheeks as she saw his reaction to her touch as her hands massaged his body. It was involuntary indeed on his part, but she marveled at his reaction still the same. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she wondered if he had a woman he pleasured back where ever he came from. Thinking she must be a very lucky woman to have a man with such a... _Focus woman_, she scolded herself. Finishing her task, she carefully covered him with a blanket.

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The fire crackled and popped as Rowan sat near the hearth playing with Cu and singing away a tune Fiona had taught her from her home, an island off the coast of the north eastern corner of Britain. A song sung by the women when their men were away at sea fishing. It was a song meant to bring their fishermen home safely.

Fiona sat on a stool just at the edge of the hearth with a bowl of lavender in her lap. She was busy tying off bits of the plant with ribbons so that she might hang them for drying. She hummed along softly to the tune her daughter sang, tapping her foot to keep tempo. Every so often she would glance over to the stranger with a watchful eye in case he began to stir. No movement did he make, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Màthair" the child said as she reflected on her thoughts.

"Aye child, what is it you are in such deep thoughts within your head about this night?" she responded with a smile after a few moments of waiting.

"I think he is sad." Rowan said with great reflection in her voice.

"Sad…why think you this Rowan?" replied Fiona puzzled.

"I think he is sad… I do…sad like you… because he is so far away from the sea…and away from his selchie skin. That is why he does not wake. He is dreaming of the sea….and of being home in the water." she cautiously spoke as she knew her mother's dislike for the talk of the selchie folklore.

"Rowan, he is not a selchie man…. he is a warrior and the only thing he is far from is his homeland." She said quietly after a brief pause "And I am not sad."

"You are màthair… I know you are…I hear you at night…when you think I am asleep." Looking at her mother "I hear you weep...you long for your home in the sea too."

Standing up Fiona made her way across the room to hang the lavender to dry.

"I do not cry." She said firmly with her back to the child.

Fiona bent down next to the stranger gazing into his face. He did look sad.

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Fiona woke to the sun's sharp rays filtering in through the cracks in the twigged laced walls. Rolling herself over she searched to find Rowan. The small child sat by the stranger, peering at his tribal markings. Fiona smiled, briefly closed her eyes and shook her head at her daughter's unwavering interest in this man.

Crawling out of bed her feet hit the floor, but she remained seated. Stretching before she stood to begin her day. Reaching for the brush that lay on the table next to her bed she loosened her long braid and began brushing her hair. Once finished she took a black ribbon and tied a tight knot then bow at that base of her neck. Making her way to her daughter she knelt down next to the man on the opposite side.

"Fetch me some water please" she smiled softly.

Without a word the child did as she was told. Slowly Fiona pulled the blanket down to his waist. She began removing the dressings on his wounds. Removing the bandage on his left side first as this was the worst of his injuries. Tenderly she examined the stitching, making sure no infection was setting in.

A sudden heat intensified around her neck as his long fingers tightened their grip, the palm of his hand indenting on her throat cutting off her breath. Slowly her eyes cast to the side to catch him in a gaze. His eyes wide open. They were dark as death with an amber glow around the edges, his lips pressed together as his grip tightened even more. Casting her eyes in the other direction she looked upon the frightened face of her daughter standing with the bowl of water in her hand, unable to move.

His dark eyes followed the woman's, seeing the fear that consumed the child's face, her eyes welled with tears, her lower lip quivered slightly. His chokehold on Fiona's neck was released, his hand slowly dropping back down to his side resting on his uncovered wound.

"Rowan go outside" she whispered calmly.

The child stood unable to move, her eyes never leaving the stranger who now was locked in a gaze with the child.

"Child mind me" her mother's voice more forceful this time.

Fiona stood up and quickly grabbed her daughter spilling the bowl of water as she took Rowan by the waist. Opening the door to the cottage she placed the child outside. Taking her small face in her hands Fiona kissed her lips.

"Stay out here… he will not harm me… he is still weak and wounded… he was only startled." she said trying to reassure her daughter.

Closing the door Fiona slowly turned to face her patient who was now attempting to sit up. The scout was bent on his right elbow too weak to push himself up any farther. Grabbing some needed herbs, oils, salves and bandages Fiona made her way back, kneeling next to the man. With her hand she pushed his left shoulder forcing him to lie back down.

"You are still weak, rest before you open your stitches" she commanded.

_She was right, he was too weak to argue_, he thought as he lay back down. _Too weak and too sore to fight_, he thought as he closed his eyes. He let out a heavy sigh.

Fiona tended to his wounds as quickly as she could replace the bandages. He had opened his eyes again, watching her intently without a sound as though he was waiting for her to make one move that displeased him. His eyes glanced on her neck where the red marks of his fingers lay across her skin. She in turn kept a watchful eye on him. The distrust between the pair was both obvious and intense.

She sat with her hands now folded in her lap as they stared at one another.

"You must be hungry I will fetch you some broth" she rose and walked to the fire she did not wait for a response nor did she want one.

Her back was towards him yet she felt his eyes burning her. She felt his uneasiness and his disorientation.

"If you think of harming my child I will slit your throat from ear to ear and watch while you bleed to death…be not mistaken about this" her tone cold and fierce.

She returned with a bowl of broth which had been simmering during the night. The smell warmed his senses, his stomach growled. Kneeling down near the pallet she placed the bowl on the floor to help him brace himself on his elbow again. Placing her hand on his shoulder she helped him as he came up slightly.

She offered a spoon of broth to his mouth. He parted his lips, the spoon slipped in and he swallowed. The warmth of the broth felt good going down his throat. Taking a rag she wiped his beard from the bit of broth that dribbled. She continued to feed him spoons full of broth. Their eyes catching each other in a untrusting gaze every so often.

He was studying her features and it made her uncomfortable.

"What are you called?" she asked finally.

His eyes moved from side to side his face contorted slightly, but he did not answer her. He laid his head back down on the pillows; his eyes stared at the thatched ceiling of the cottage. After a few moments of silence Fiona rose and headed for the door.

"Where is this place?" he finally spoke, his accent deep, sultery and most definitely not from around these parts.

"I see that you have found your voice" she said as she continued out the door.

Slowly he placed his right arm behind his head, his hand rested on the left wound just above his hip.

_My name,_ he thought as his eyes shifted from side to side. The more he thought the more his brows cinched together.

'My name is…..' his lips opened and closed as though his mouth would spit out the information he searched for

**To be continued…**


	3. Searching

**Disclaimer: the same as always**

**Now that he is awake, Tristan searches to remember who he is, and how he got there. His first encounter with Fiona sets the pace for a very interesting union between them as neither trusts the other.**

**Thanks for all the reviews, emails and hits! Glad you like this story! **

**Chapter 3: Searching**

He placed his arm under his head for some support and began to search his mind intently. Still looking at the thatched ceiling his eyes roamed all over the place as though he might find the answers to his questions somewhere in the rafters above. After a few moments of intense searching he took what was probably the deepest breath he had taken in his life then slowly exhaled.

_My name, this should be easy enough_…. _my name is….._. _bloody hell…. what __is __my name damn it_! He thought as his brows lowered and knitted, his lips clenched and frustration overwhelmed him. His body began to tense.

It should be an easy question to answer. It should have been, but he found it wasn't?

_What is my name, where did I come from, and how the hell did I get here? _He thought as his head began to hurt.

Foolishly he shot up to a sitting position. As he did he felt the sudden burn from his injuries shoot through his entire body; causing such an intense pain it was near crippling.

He looked down at his wounds. She had done a good job taking care of him.

Moaning heavily, he slowly laid his body back down. His eyes closed as he bit his lower lip expelling short groaning breaths.

It had become apparent to him that he was in a rather peculiar spot, whoever he was. Assessing the situation he realized several things; first and for most, he was naked with no sight of clothing anywhere. The next thing being that; he was not the master of this cottage, of that he was certain and she was most certainly not his woman (as she had to ask his name). Finally, he must be a…well there could be several options to this quandary.

Perhaps he was an outlaw, on the run? Maybe he was a farmer? No. He had too many scars for that. Or maybe, he was a warrior.

_Yes, a warrior, most definitely a warrior. H_e thought as his arm stretched back behind his head again as he tried to ease the pain of his sudden jolt.

_A mighty warrior judging by all my scars. H_e thought as his hand tenderly rested on his left side.

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The sound of the door opening jarred him. His head snapped in its direction. His eyes fixated on the female, her child and the dog who had just entered the dwelling.

His expression faded into one of mistrust. He pensively watched as the woman and the child came in through the cottage door. Their eyes met, both mistrusting, both guarded. His chest tightened as he watched her make her way cautiously toward the hearth. Her eyes watched him closely, prepared, just in case he made the slightest movement that displeased her. She held a dagger clutched in her hand, ready to strike.

He was now in a sitting position, braced with an extended arm for support. His brows were scrunched down until they nearly covered his eyes.

"My clothes woman, where are they?" he grumbled tersely.

There was no response from her. He looked to the girl who was standing with her hand on the dog. Both of them near the door.

"Where are my clothes?" he demanded.

"I burned them," she replied coldly not even bothering to look in his direction.

"You did what?" he yelled robustly.

Fiona spun around inflamed. "There is nothing wrong with your hearing is there? You heard me clearly…. I said I burned them!" her snarl was nearly as fierce as his own "And I will have you kindly remember you are a guest in _my _home." Her eyes flamed like the amber's of a fire. "I will not have you speak to me in that tone!"

Growling lowly, his teeth clenched tightly. "Why would you burn my clothes woman?"

She was now turned to face him, this stranger. Her eyes gazed down over him. A silence fell between them as they each once again studied the other.

"Well at least I know one thing about you….you have a foul temper," Fiona finally spoke.

Turning to the left she went to the cupboard where she took out several items, which included some trousers and a shirt. Walking over to where the stranger lay she tossed them on top of his legs.

"Those should do…wait until we take our leave before you get up," she growled

Rowan stood smiling at the man who lay on her floor. She was still intrigued by his presence. Fiona walked over to her daughter and took Rowan by the hand. She led her out the door, fetching a basket on her way out. Turning she looked coldly at the man.

"We will return shortly, I expect you dressed and in a much better mood." She turned her head back around to catch his eyes in a wild glare. " You have explaining to do," she snarled.

"And you are welcome, for saving your life." He heard her say as they stepped through the threshold.

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The door shut loudly behind her. Her steps were shift and strong, her pace too quick for Rowan. The pair headed into the woods to fetch herbs; mainly to escape their ill tempered and obviously ungrateful visitor.

"Màthair, please, please slow down, I cannot move so quickly please slow down." Rowan pleaded as she struggled to keep up with her mother's pace.

Fiona stopped in her tracks, slowly releasing the tight grip she had on Rowan's hand. Gazing down into the dark eyes of the child she released a deep breath. Kneeling before the girl Fiona placed the basket to the ground. Taking Rowan in her arms she held her daughter tightly.

"I am sorry child," She whispered.

"Why do you fear him so Màthair?" she asked.

Looking into her daughter's face with great amazement she replied. "How is it that you are so wise beyond your years, daughter?"

"I have special powers, like you Màthair," She answered with a wink.

"And just so you are sure of one thing my child, I do not fear him. I do not trust him, there is a huge difference. I fear no one and nothing." She said as she raised her head in affirmation.

"I like him," Rowan chanted with the innocent smile of a child.

"You only like him because you believe him to be a selchie man Rowan." She said firmly as she rose pressing her apron firmly with her hands all the while casting a stern look to her daughter. "Come let us fetch our herbs."

Fiona extended her hand for Rowan to grasp, smiling as she felt her child's small hand take hold of hers. She looked down into Rowan's dark brown eyes; suddenly she thought of her father. Her heart ached for him. A feeling of despair fell over her.

_Bury this now! _She commanded herself; _you will not bring this to the surface_!

"Hopefully our visitor will be up and dressed upon our return. The sooner he is better, the sooner he can leave us in peace." Fiona grumbled under her breath.

Rowan rolled her eyes as she looked up sideways at her mother.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

His eyes looked down at the clothing that lay strewn across his legs. Curiously he lifted them to exam the items. They were most defiantly mens clothing.

Questions rapidly crossed his mind. _Who did they belong to? There was no sign that a man dwelled within these walls. Whose were they? What had happened to him? Had she killed him? _

"Perhaps she has cast a spell on him and turned him into some creature," he spoke aloud, looking at the dog that lay watching him. The dog sat up making a growling sound as his head turned from side to side.

His head curiously titled as he eyed the animal. "Hhhmmm, do these belong to you?" He inquired as he extended the clothes in his grasp. He laughed and shook his head as the dog barked and wagged his tail.

"Maybe I am to be her next victim?" He chuckled out loud.

Carefully he stood up. He stretched his back, twisted his waist and raised his arms. Slowly he dressed himself, pulling the shirt over his head with great ease as his wounds still hurt him and his body stiff from lying so long. Standing straight as he laced and fastened the breeches, once accomplished he took a better look around his surroundings.

Making his way to toward the door he looked down at the dog that was now standing on all fours, wagging his tail. He opened the door cautiously. The light hit his eyes with great force causing him to place his hand up to block the sun until he was able to adjust to his surroundings.

Taking a few steps outside he stopped and inhaled the cool fresh air, letting the sun's rays warm his face. He heard the sound of water rushing nearby. Taking his right hand he rubbed his whiskers, holding his hand across his mouth as his eyes scanned all that lay in front of him. Curiously wondering to himself how it was that his senses where so atuned to everything, something familiar about his ability to be so aware. It seemed as though it was second nature to him; watching, observing.

A screech came from the air in the near distance. He looked up trying to see where it came from. Suddenly he saw a hawk circling above as the screech became louder. He watched with pleasure, smiling at the majesty of the fowl circling above. He began to notice that the bird was coming closer with each passing. All at once the bird swooped down to him; he quickly ducked, narrowly escaping its sharp talons grabbing hold of him.

"Bloody hell…" he shouted.

Again the hawk made a circle then began its descent toward him. Once again he ducked, this time he felt a sharp prick of pain as the hawk's talons grazed his forearm which was extended over his head for protection. The dog barked profusely at the bird, attempting to jump at it in mid air.

"Damn it!" he once again shouted.

Hurriedly he made his way back in the cottage, slamming the door behind him. The hawk screeched several times finally landing on a branch in a nearby tree.

Looking down at the dog that had joined him, he made his way to the window. Slowly he pushed open the shudders; looking around for the menacing creature that just tried to take his life.

A loud screech was heard; he spotted the bird on a branch. They stared at one another for a few moments before the bird let out a loud squawk in his direction. His eyes squinted as he pulled his head back slightly, something was familiar, but he couldn't make it out. Stepping back, he closed the shudders.

_Curious_- he thought.

He stoked the fire and placed a log on it, then sat in the chair. The dog came near placing his head to rest on his lap. Placing his hand on the dogs head he began to rub behind its ears. Letting his legs stretch out he crossed his ankles and slid comfortably down in the chair.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Nearly an hour passed since Fiona and Rowan had left. They returned with a collection of herbs, berries, roots and mushrooms.

The sound of the hawk squawking at them caused Fiona's head to jilt up to the trees. She found the bird perched, just looking down at her.

"She's beautiful is she not Màthair?" Rowan said.

"She is indeed Rowan. I have not seen her around these parts since…." She stopped her statement. "I wonder…. perhaps… no…no it couldn't be…." She continued.

"What couldn't be?" the child asked in wonder.

"Nothing Rowan, come child let us go see what your 'selchie man' has gotten himself into." She laughed.

Slowly Fiona opened the door to the cottage. Her head eased in, eyes scanning for signs of the visitor. She saw him there, sitting by the fire, like lord of the castle with his legs stretched out arms crossed at his chest, sleeping.

Or so she thought he was asleep at any rate, but he was not. He was listening, watching out of slit eyes; he was waiting.

**To be continued…..**


	4. An Understanding

**Disclaimer: Usual**

**Thanks for all the reviews, emails and hits! I am glad you like this story.**

**Chapter 4: An Understanding**

* * *

><p>Rowan's head slid timidly between her mother's hips and the door. She peeked around the door to view where her 'selchie man' might be. Cu trotted up to Rowan who immediately fell to her knees, wrapped her arms around the canine and hugged him. He had been nestled in front of the fire near the stranger's feet.<p>

Fiona made her way to the table placing the basket on the top. Slowly she began taking the bits of twigs, berries, herbs, roots and mushrooms that the two had gathered and spread them neatly across the table top. She replaced the basket on a hook that hung from the rafters near the window. Fiona opened the shutters to allow fresh air and sunshine into the otherwise dark cottage. Looking back over her shoulder she watched to see if there was any movement from him, there was none.

Rowan slowly and inconspicuously made a trail over toward the hearth; trying desperately to pretend that her final destination was not right beside him. She eased next to him just at his elbow, her dark eyes watching him. While looking to see if her mother was aware of her proximity to the man Rowan placed her hand gingerly on his left forearm. His eyes opened fully and his head cocked, titled and turned slowly in her direction. There they were, man and child, nearly eyeball to eyeball. Rowan quickly glanced in Fiona's direction to find she still had her back to the pair. She was busy hanging herbs to dry.

The girl looked back at the man and smiled softly as her hand gently patted his arm. His face was stern and hard looking, his glare at the child almost deathlike. But Rowan was not afraid of this stranger.

She lowered her head slightly looking over her lashes, scrunched her nose and crinkled her lips at him in an attempt to replicate his expression. She smiled and giggled softly. Finally the corners of his mouth lifted, highlighting his prominent cheek bones. His hair was tossed haphazardly across his face as his thumbs twiddled around one another.

"I am called Rowan," she whispered cautiously looking over at her mother who suddenly stopped what she was doing. Rowan knew she was listening to her.

"I found you, me and Cu did. Are you from the sea? Do you know where you skin is? I bet someone has it hidden so you cannot return. That is why you look so sad. I told Màthair that you looked sad and I was right. You are sad because you are far away from your home aren't you?"

The man looked at the child wondering to himself if she would ever take a breath. He looked over his shoulder at Fiona who now stood near the table. Her gaze was stern and distrusting.

Pointing at her mother, Rowan continued her rambling. "This is my màthair, her name is Fiona. We live here, but we came from an island, that is far, far, far away from here," she stretched her arm as far behind as she could.

"Màthair says you are not from here either," She whispered as she leaned closer into him cupping her hand to the right side of her mouth. "She does not trust you," she whispered.

There was brief silence then she began again.

"What are you called?" The young child inquired.

After some time of staring into the fire the man softly spoke. "I cannot remember," he softly whispered looking down at his hands.

"You do not know your name?" The girl looked quizzically at the man. "Do you have name?" she quietly asked. "Where did you come from? How did you get all those wounds? You were bleeding when I found you. I saved your life! Me and Cu did. Didn't we boy?" She said looking down at the dog.

Rowan pet Cu, who gave a quick bark in compliance and wagged his tail.

"Well he really found you, but I helped màthair bring you to our cottage- didn't I màthair?" She said looking at Fiona who stood watching the man's growing uneasiness at her daughter's onslaught of questions. "Maybe you cannot remember you name because you truly are a selchie man. I will give you name."

The child's rambling and chanting at the stranger with a brogue of questions unnerved him. Fiona moved around hastily making her way toward the two.

Seeing that her mother was quickly approaching, Rowan stepped back from the man.

"Màthair look he is awake again. He smiled at me màthair," The child said smiling up so innocently at her mother. "He is a friendly selchie man. I knew he would be," she said with such exuberance. "We do not need to fear him, I told you he would not hurt me, I found him, and he is mine."

"Rowan, child leave him be. Give him some peace from your questions," she said placing her hands on the child's shoulders.

Fiona watched him carefully. She was good at reading people's faces. She suddenly realized he spoke the truth. He did not remember who he was, or where he came from.

"But màthair he _is _a selchie man I know he is," she insisted.

"Shhh, hush now child with that talk, you will scare the poor wee thing," she chuckled as she took Rowan by the arms and led her away towards the table. "Leave him be, girl, he is still recovering from his injuries. He will answer your questions in his own time."

"But you said he had questions to answer when we left, and now we have returned so he must answer all our questions." Looking over to the man who was now sitting straight in the chair, his right hand crossed his body gripping the arm of the chair as his body was slightly turned toward the two females, his left brow cocked and his head tilted down to the right.

"You said matheir…you did." Rowan repeated.

"Rowan, child," Her words were soft and harmonious as she bent down softly stroking her daughters long dark hair. "Why don't you take Cu outside and play for a bit. Will you feed Coll as well while you are at it? I am sure he is hungry by now." She placed a tender kiss on her forehead turned her and patted her bottom as the child skipped out the door.

"Do not say anything of interest while I am gone selchie man…do you promise," she sang as she exited through the door.

"I can assure you I will not child." he said his deep rough accent caused Fiona's emotions to suddenly stir as she turned to face him.

His voice, his looks reminded her of someone from long ago; Rowan's father.

* * *

><p>Fiona closed the door behind her child. With her hand still on the handle she turned so that her back rested against the door.<p>

"She has a wild imagination, you must forgive her. She means you no harm," Fiona said looking at the stranger. "Can you really not remember your name?" she asked making her way toward him.

"No." he replied, his face saddening.

There was a brief silence.

"I have heard of such things. They say it does not last long. More than likely from the fall you took, the blow to your head." She carefully placed her fingers upon the bump on his head.

He pulled away from her touch, turned his head and looked back toward the fire.

* * *

><p>"What does she mean?" He asked quietly.<p>

"She means nothing of it; she is just a child, a child with a vivid imagination." Trying to avoid conversation Fiona quickly walked to the cupboard and began collecting items for her patient.

"Why does she keep calling me a selchie man? What does it mean? What is a slechie?" His tone was quieter, almost calm.

Gone, for the moment at least, was the mistrust and tension that had been between them. In its place was a sort of ambivalence gaze.

Fiona paused midway to the hearth.

_How am I to explain this to him?_ She thought to herself looking at his dark eyes.

Her head glanced down to the floor as she released a heavy sigh. Slowly as her head rose up she caught him in a gaze once again. For the first time there was a mutual peace between them.

Walking over to him with a hand full of healing items she continued toward him. He was now sitting straight up with both arms resting on the arms of the chair. Fiona placed the items gently in his lap.

"Take your shirt off," She said as she saw him jet his dark alluring eyes back up to her face. "I need to exam your wounds," She added with an unamused smile. "Nothing more."

Carefully he began to remove the shirt. He struggled to get it over his head. Fiona carefully helped him pull the shirt the remainder of the way over his head and off his arms. Folding it in half she placed it on the back of the chair. He leaned back, bracing himself on the chair's back.

She meshed her lips together in an attempt to hide a smile as she fixed his hair. His long braid had remained flipped on top of his head. He looked up at her with little expression as though he were in lost in deep thought.

That he was. He was lost in his thoughts of who this extraordinarily beautiful and mysterious woman standing so close in proximity to him was. She intrigued him, with her dark eyes, dangerous looks, and pale white skin. He closed his eyes and inhaled slightly, her smell intoxicating. She was causing his senses to fill his mind and body in wonder and primeval desires.

For the first time he noticed how attractive she was. Her figure was lean, strong, and curvy. Truth was, there was more to it than that. Something about the way she handled herself. Rest assured, she most certainly had a commanding presence, bewitching even.

She cleared her throat; he looked up to see her right eyebrow cocked with a rather chastening expression splashed across her face as her chin drew down slightly.

He realized that she had caught him staring at her. He was eye level to her exposed cleavage. He had shamelessly been starring at her breasts, her rather large breast. He looked away toward the fire, cleared his throat and smiled.

Fiona changed the dressing on his wounds, checking each one for any infections. She was relieved to that he was healing faster than she ever imagined he would.

"Thank you," he said quietly, deeply his voice husky when she had finished.

His left fingers raised, his thumb rested on his high cheekbone as his index finger scratched his eyebrow. All the while his eyes fixated deep into her gaze.

He took the shirt from behind the chair and placed back on his body. As it came over his head they caught each other in a gaze, something the pair did often. They were both studying each other, looking for something, yet not sure what that something was.

"It's nothing but a legend, folklore really," She said suddenly.

His face bore a quizzical expression.

"The selchie," she said quietly as she gathered her oils, rags etc.

"They are legendary creatures from my homeland," she paused. "Where we come from, Rowan and me." As she continued he moved himself into a more comfortable position.

"In the north sea, far north of here there is an island off the mainland coast," She walked to the cupboard, placed the items in then closed the cupboard doors. Fiona stood a few moments facing the cupboard trying to find the words.

"These legendary creatures are known as selchie folk, they are said to be seals." She paused looking at him quizzically. "Do you know of seals?"

He thought for moment as a picture flashed in his mind. "Yes," he said quietly "Creatures of the sea, small with the blackest of eyes." He smiled at the fact that he remembered something.

"Yes, they do have large soulful eyes do they not?" She whispered as she cast an unintentional alluring stare in his direction, her eyes dark as coal.

He found that he was now staring deep into the blackest pair of eyes that he could ever remember seeing. Her eyes were so bewitching, so captivating and her voice as soft as siren.

"It is said that there are seals that can shed their skins and take human form. The legend goes that the selchie shed their skins when they come ashore and take on the form of a beautiful maiden or man."

Her head dropped slightly down as she pressed her apron. She felt foolish even speaking such things as she always chastened Rowan.

"It is said that the selchie woman or man is bewitchingly beautiful. When a human captures a selchie skin then hides it, it will make the selchie into a fine and desirous, mate." She smiled seductively as she moved closer toward him, standing in front of the fire, her back towards him.

The stranger sat with his elbow braced on the chair arm, the fingers of his left hand pensively rubbing the whiskers of his chin as he listened intently to the woman.

"If, however the selchie maiden or man finds their skin, they will return to the sea from whence they came without hesitation." Her expression saddened, her voice softened. "Leaving their human mate to pine away in a pervasive longing of heartbreaking desire."

Again silence fell between them. Fiona gazed deep into the flames of the fire that crackled before her. The stranger watched her face from the side deep in thought.

"So, she thinks I am selchie man is that it?" His lips meshing and unmeshing themselves.

"She is a mere child," she whispered. "She believes in a lot of legends."

A pensive silence fell between them once more.

"We are far from the sea, Fiona," He whispered soulfully after a moments time.

The sound of her name falling from his lips caused her to tense. Her head snapped as it turned to look upon his face.

He could tell she was withdrawing inwardly and guarding herself once more.

"Come with me," she commanded as she headed for the door.

When he did not follow she turned, anger flushed her face, her hand pressed on the open door.

"You are wounded, not deaf, come with me," she groaned.

"I do not take orders from women! Espceially women who bark at me," He growled.

"How would you know what you do or do not do," she snarled back. "You cannot even remember your name!"

He turned to face the fire, definitely sitting, unwilling to yield to her commands. He heard the door slam suddenly and smiled.

Storming outside filled with unmistaken anger she made her way to the stream. Rowan caught her mother's figure and ran toward her.

* * *

><p>"Is he well màthair?" she asked as she grabbed her mother's hand.<p>

"He is a stubborn, insolent and head strong fool of a man, nothing more!" She snorted.

Reaching the stream's edge Fiona removed her shoes and handed them to Rowan. Tensing as she entered the cold waters she felt a shiver race up and down her body. Assuming her usual fishing formation she prepared to grabbed their evening's meal. Her first attempt she failed, as a salmon slipped through her hands. Rowan giggled as per her usual ritual.

Cu jumped up and headed toward the cottage. Fiona was too caught up in what she was doing to notice that the stranger had made his way out of the cottage and was heading toward the stream bank. Reaching the tree where Rowan sat he carefully and with great ease sat down, using the tree trunk to brace himself. Once seated next to her, he pulled his long legs up, crossed his ankles and braced his arms on either knee, clasping his left wrist with his right hand. Looking to the right and down at Rowan he smiled.

"She always misses the first few," she chanted with a happy smile as she scooted closer to him.

She was now sitting upright on her knees so she might see over his arms. Cu took his place to his other side, laid his head down on his crossed front paws. The trio watched Fiona as she once again tried unsuccessfully to catch their meal. She missed, uttering foul words in her native tongue, causing Rowan to slap her hand across her mouth, raise her eyebrows and giggle as her head sunk into her shoulders. She looked up at the man who chuckled back at her.

It was several more attempts before Fiona had landed a huge salmon for their evening meal. Proudly she stood raising her catch to the skies as she made her way back to the bank. She was victorious. Rowan and their guest stood up, making their way toward Fiona who stood proudly.

"It is a huge one màthair, we shall have a grand feast this eve!" Rowan exclaimed as she examined the fish with a bright smile.

Fiona and the stranger smiled at one another kindly. She turned to make her way back to the cottage. He too took a few steps, then looked down, seeing Rowan's small hand holding his and her smiling face looking up at him. He smiled softly back at the child then looked forward toward her mother. Fiona was several paces ahead of them when she heard in the near distance a now familiar screech. They all stopped and looked skyward.

The hawk circled calling out, slowly making its way down in a circular pattern. Suddenly it was upon them. The stranger grabbed the women forcing them to the ground shielding their bodies instinctively with his own. The bird of prey swooped back to the air, all the while calling.

"That damn menacing bird," he shouted looking up. "It tried to kill me this very morn."

He helped the women up. He placed his hand on his lower left wound.

"Are you alright?" Fiona asked with great concern moving in closer, the fish still flipping within her raised apron.

"Yes, I am" he said tersely in a gut reaction. He raised himself up straight holding his side. "Yes, thank you, I am," His tone softer, kinder.

"I wonder," she said looking at the bird circling. "Rowan, run to the barn and fetch the rabbit pelt drying in the side, hurry." She said looking at the man.

His expression one of curiosity as to what she was planning. Shortly Rowan returned with the pelt. Fiona dropped the fish to the ground, Rowan gasped.

"Rowan see that Cu does not eat this fish." She commanded, turning to the man she said "Extend your left arm."

"Are you mad woman?" He was hoping what he thought she was up to was not what she was really planning.

"Do as I say," she said as he looked at her with clenched eyes. "Please do as I ask, hurry...trust me." Her tone softened as she looked deeply into his eyes.

His head tilted slightly to the right and his left eyebrow cocked. He let out a sigh and extended his left arm. Fiona removed the ribbon from her hair, placed the rabbit pelt around his forearm then fastened it with her ribbon. Taking his arm she slowly extended it out.

"Now whistle," she said as she heard the screech of the hawk get louder. "Surely you can whistle."

Before he could pucker his lips, Rowan let out a strong whistle. The hawk screeched loudly and began its decent.

"Steady now, hold your arm firm," she said as she took a step back.

The red winged hawk descended gracefully until it came to rest upon his arm. She was magnificent. The hawk flapped her wings then settled into a relaxed state. Her chest feathers ruffled as though she were angered by his attitude toward her. Her head turned from side to side as she eyed him. They looked at one another intently.

"I thought as much," Fiona said with a chuckle.

Taking her index finger Fiona stroked the bird's chest feathers, the bird straightened herself. The three smiled. The man looked at Fiona in awe.

"She belongs to you," She said smiling at him.

"But how do you know?" He asked.

"I first noticed her circling soon after you arrived. I have never seen her around here before that. Also she has this leather strapping, which means she is a trained hawk," She said proudly.

Picking up the fish from the ground Fiona looked at the man.

"When I say three you hoist your arm and motion her to take flight." She said calmly. He nodded his head in agreement.

"One…two…three," With that Fiona tossed the fish as high into the air she could.

The hawk took flight grabbing the fish in the clutches of her talons and took off. The three of them laughed.

"There goes our sup màthair," Rowan said.

"So it does, I shall head back to the water then." With that Fiona made her way to the stream again.

The stranger stood motionless watching the hawk fly away with the fish dangling from its talons.

_My hawk? _He thought, suddenly he had vision come to him. He was riding a horse alongside several other men. _Who were they?_

He was brought out of his thoughts by Rowan who was pulling his hand.

"Come on," she shouted.

To be continued…..


	5. Pain Must Be Endured Revised

_**Disclaimer: The usual**_

_**REVISED EDITION-**_

_**Tristan finds out just how helpless he really is when faced with seeing what must be endured.**_

_**M For Mature content and subject, rape scene-**_

_**Chapter 6: Pain Must Be Endured**_

_My hawk? _He asked himself, as the vision from earlier returned. He was riding a horse alongside several other men. _Who were they?_

_I have a hawk, what else do I have? _His thoughts strained as he watched the bird fly off with their evening's meal. His head started pounding again. Placing his hand gingerly upon the bump that graced his head he wondered if the woman was right. Would his memory loss be only short lived? He watched with distrusting eyes as she made her way back into the stream's waters. His eyes intently panned around him, he was searching and observing instinctively once again.

Feeling a slight tugging on his arm he looked down to see the smiling face of this little girl who seemed bent on him being her friend. She had taken his hand.

"Come on," she said with a smile as she pulled his hand.

"Alright girl I am coming," he said with a slight smile.

The pair made their way to the tree by the stream in order to watch Fiona catch their evening's replacement meal.

xxxxxxxxxxx-

Later that night when all was quiet in the cottage the stranger lay on the pallet resting. _It had been a good day over all, _he thought to himself as he placed his head on his bent arm. He learned things about himself which would hopefully lead to more memories.

_Those men, who are they? _His eyes closed in an attempt to recapture the memory that had flashed in his mind. He tried desperately to focus on the detail of their faces, the place where they were riding. Anything, anything at all that would help him remember.

His hands rested on his chest as he desperately tried to block out every sound, smell and any other distraction so he could just focus on the faces. He was still, slowly the sounds faded into the background until he was there. He saw something, a face it was coming clearer.

_Focus, steady _he thought.

There it was, a face. _By all the Gods what an ugly face!_ He thought as his body flinched.

A bald headed man with a stout face with a deep scar that ran from the scalp to mid top of his head just above the right brow.

He closed his eyes straining to remember more, but he could not. He became frustrated. _Patient, you are going to have to be patient. _He warned himself.

_Who was this man? _Releasing a deep breath he tried to remember.

Closing his eyes he tried to find sleep, perhaps he would dream something that would help him.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The next afternoon-

Her breathing was short and heavy as she ran through the woods. The air cool and crisp stinging her lungs with each breath that she took. Her legs carried her with the speed of a fleeing stag. Frantically she made her way back to the cottage. She had to reach Rowan before they arrived, had to hide her, hide the stranger as well, or there would be hell to pay. Terrible things would happen to her and Rowan if they knew she had helped him. She could not let anything happen to Rowan.

Busting through the door she startled the inhabitants. The stranger instinctively reached for a dagger that lay on the table and assumed an attack position. She was bent over holding her stomach trying to catch her breath.

"You…must… hide… in the grain storage," she spit the words out in chopped word formation.

"Hide in the grain storage," her voice was frantic. "Hurry; there is no time to waste, hide!"

He stood firm not willing to budge. She grabbed his shirt sleeve.

"Damn you, Rowan's life is in danger! If nothing else you owe me her safety," she demanded.

She was right, he did owe her. He owed her more than Rowan's life, he owed her his own.

Fiona moved the table and the fur pelt to uncover a hatch door in the floor. She had made a dug out beneath the cottage floor with an escape tunnel that reached to the woods, just in case. She had told Rowan it was a grain and herb storage so not to frighten the child. Lifting the hatch so looked at him.

"NOW!" She screamed.

"Rowan, close your eyes and cover your ears. Sing to yourself, deep in your mind the song of home, of the selchie people, sing petal, sing," she rubbed her child's face lovingly.

Fiona looked into the strangers eyes; he saw her fear and knew he must do as she asked of him.

Grabbing Rowan he carried her down the few steps into the grain storage cellar.

"Do not make a sound," she looked deep into his eyes.

She began to close the hatch, as she did their eyes locked once again. This was the first time he had seen her like this, terrified.

"No matter what you _hear, _do not come out, no matter what," she stated. "Do you understand, no matter _what you hear_, promise me!" she begged. "Swear it to me man!" Intense desperation could be heard in her voice.

"I swear to you, I will keep her safe," he said reassuring her.

At that moment they heard the rumbling sound made by horse hooves, Fiona snapped her head in its direction. The earth beneath the cottage shook.

As the hatched closed she whispered to him.

"Keep her safe, cover her ears, please keep her safe," she begged once more. "If anything happens care for her."

With that she closed the hatch, replaced the deer pelt and then the table and chairs.

Quickly she made her way outside pretending as though she had been there for awhile tending to chores.

Xxxxx

The sound of many heavy horse hooves intensified rolling in like thunder as the band of Woads arrived. Leading the pack was Sèitheach. He sat tall astride his black stallion. He was indeed an ominous presence, his strong muscular body draped in his native cloth. His long hair flowed behind him like a cape. He was a physically beautiful man but he was diabolical and ruthless to his very soul.

Sèitheach dismounted his horse. His eyes were dark with the look of pure evil. As he walked toward the cottage his eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for anything at all that seemed to be out of order.

Just as he passed Fiona his hand reached out and grasped a handful of her hair. Slowly he inhaled its scent; his eyes closed as he rubbed the silky strands of her hair through his long rough fingers. He was looking for a sign of the knight.

"Woman," he finally spoke, his voice was deep and raspy. He spoke with a heavy Gaelic accent. "We are tracking one of those Sarmatian knights from the great wall. He is the scout for that Roman, Arthur."

"No one has been this way," she replied firmly, standing her ground.

She held her breath careful not to give any sign that she knew anything. Sèitheach was excellent at reading people and watched her expressions. Fiona was better at masking her feelings, something that she honed throughout the years as protection.

"Look all you want….do not let me stop you," she said without feeling or concern.

"I shall do just that," he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "And whatever else I desire too." His hand slid down her back to her bottom. He grabbed her, rocking her as he slapped her hard before heading to the cottage.

Her heart began to race but she knew that for the sake of them all she had to not only remain calm, but distant to his searching. Sèitheach was anything but a fool. He had a keen awareness, almost a sixth sense.

She turned to follow him, staying close on his heels. Before entering the cottage he turned toward the other riders.

"Water your horses," he snapped in his native tongue.

Looking down at Fiona he smiled mischievously.

"I may be a moment," he let out a haunting laugh.

She heard the loud laughter and mumbled comments made amongst the group. Even the female Woads joined in, they had distaste for Fiona because they felt threatened by her. They knew that Sèitheach desired her, one of the main reasons that no one dared disturb her. Everyone feared the wrath of Sèitheach, most knowing firsthand how ruthless the man was.

They all dismounted and took their horses to the stream for watering.

Sèitheach continued into the cottage, his footsteps heavy sounding. They echoed loudly in the grain storage, Rowan scrunched up in the strangers lap. His arms encircled her small body as he held her tightly close to his body. He was sure to cover her ears with his arm. She had both hands covering her ears and she sang loudly in her mind the song from their homeland. She knew what was going to happen, for it happened many times before. She trembled.

He entered deeper within the cottage as he did his eyes looked around. Seeing only herbs hanging from the ceiling drying, baskets and pots all around, nothing seemed misplaced from his last visit. His hand touched several of the pots hanging from the rafters clanking them against each other as he made his way around the room.

He walked slowly around the table as he did his boot stepped over the loosened boards in the floor that were over the storage.

Bits of dirt filtered down dusting lightly across his face as he watched. Rowan once again trembled. The stranger's hold tightened as he tried his best to comfort the child.

Sèitheach walked behind Fiona, his long fingers slid across her throat. Her back arched as his other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. She was near on her tiptoes as his hold on her intensified.

"We ambushed him near over a fortnight past," he groaned in her ear, his body pressed harder against hers. "He was badly injured."

She gasped for breath as his grip around her neck tightened. She placed her hand softly on his trying to pry his fingers loose.

"Have you seen him? Tell me the truth woman," he growled deeply as his long fingers gripped tighter around her neck.

She could not respond verbally only managed to shake her head no.

Taking the hand that was wrapped around her waist Sèitheach pushed the table clean of any items, cups and bowls breaking into pieces as they shattered.

"You know I do not like being lied to," he growled as he turned her around, pressing her hip bones against the edge of the wooden table. She pushed backwards against his hold as she tried to fight him off.

Her hands pressed palm down against the table. His hand was now around the back of her neck, as he bent her over.

"You know better than to resist my desires Fiona," his voice purred in her ear. "It only makes me more intent on having what I seek after, foolish woman."

He looked around again.

"Where is the girl?" He groaned.

"She is in the woods with the dog, picking berries," she responded.

"Good," he said as his hands slid down her legs gathering the material to her dress as they went.

He gathered the material pushing up it around her hips, his hand pressed firmly on her back, pinning her down. She knew better than to resist him, it was best to let him take what he wanted so he would be gone.

He caressed her backside with his rough calloused hand. With his other he raised the kilted material, taking hold of his erected manhood, he stroked it slowly as he caressed her. She could feel him press against her skin and it sickened her. His touch made her feel filthy. She knew from experience the pain that was soon to follow. He was never kind or tender. He took what he wanted with force, not caring the pain he caused anyone. She often thought that he gained great pleasure in the knowledge that his strength was not out matched.

He leaned on top of her with his weight, whispering in her ear. His leg pushed between hers forcing them apart.

"You belong to me Fiona, you always will," he groaned huskily as he forcefully thrust himself into her. She muffled her pain as she bit the side of her cheek; she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he caused her pain.

With one hand gripped on her right shoulder the other on her left hip Sèitheach pounded deep into her, harder with each thrust. He would leave bruises, as he always did. She fought back the tears that were welling in her throat. Crying only made him angry, and when he was angry he used even more force and violence. Her mind wandered to that place where she went to escape, the place of her homeland, the sea, the moors. She recalled the smells of her childhood, anything that helped her to endure.

Over and over he thrust his length roughly into her until he roared loudly as he found his release deep within her. So forceful were his thrust that the table inched from where it was. He collapsed on top of her, the weight of his body nearly crushing her. She could hardly breathe.

Beneath the floor the stranger sat holding the child. He gritted his teeth in disgust. His stomach churned as anger swelled throughout his body. He could hear everything, even the silent pain she tried to endure. He held Rowan tightly, shielding her as best he could.

How many times had this occurred he wondered? How many times had this child been sent to hide while her mother was violated? His stomach was sick.

It took everything in his being not to bust through the floor hatch and attack him. Instead he must wait.

He would have his day, of that he would make sure.

He heard the table move across the floor as the man pushed off of Fiona.

"If you see the knight, remember he is mine," he informed her as he gathered himself together.

Pulling Fiona up by the wrist he took her in his arms and forced his mouth upon hers. He took pleasure in biting her lower lip until it bled. He marked her, reminding her that she was his property. He pushed her aside when he was done, causing her to fall on the floor. He towered over her looking down victoriously into her eyes.

"I shall come again for you once we have found him," he spat as he left the cottage.

Once outside Sèitheach made a loud robust roar of victory, beat on his chest that was extended with his closed fist, followed by swells of cheers from the others who waited for their leader.

Shortly the thunderous sound of horses rumbling away in the distance could be heard by the stranger. He knew that they were leaving, but he would wait briefly just to be sure.

Fiona stood up, pressed her apron and made her way out of the cottage. She moved with little emotion, her eyes focused on the stream.

Knowing the coast was clear the stranger let his hold on Rowan go. She sat in his lap with her arms around his neck and wept.

"Now there girl," he whispered as he patted her back.

He placed her to the side after a few moments. He could feel a few stitches pop as he pushed the hatch door up with all his strength. Although the table was no longer above them the deer skin rug still covered the hatch. With one hand he reached up andpushed the pelt out of the way. Once the path was clear he lifted Rowan up, and then made his way. He looked around the cottage, Fiona was nowhere to be seen, the table was tipped over and all its contents strewn on the floor.

He closed the hatch, replaced the pelt, table and chairs where they were. Rowan began to pick the items off the floor. He heard the soft sniffling sound of her tears as she worked.

The stranger slowly made his way outside. He took a few steps then stopped. Then he saw her there, in the stream. Her dress pulled up as her hand scooped water between her legs. He could hear her weeping. She was desperately trying to wash away the pain and humiliation.

Excruciating pain filled his body as he watched her. Not the pain which came from his ruptured stitches, but a different kind of pain. No, this was the kind of pain that filled your soul when your heart aches for something.

How could he help this woman? What could he do to ease her pain? At the moment nothing, but he vowed that he would have his revenge on this man who ever he was. He lowered his head, turned and walked back into the cottage. He placed his hand on Rowan's head and brushed her soft hair with it. He looked down into her eyes. He smiled kindly.

"Come child, let us finish tidying up for your mother," he said softly.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hours had passed; the sun nearly set as it lit the sky in brilliant hues of reds, oranges and gold.

He attentively stroked the bird's chest feathers, his dark eyes carefully watched the outlining landscape hoping to see her figure appear. The hawk cooed softly then looked deeply at his bearded face as though she understood the desire within his heart.

In an instant she took flight. He watched as she headed out, knowing she went searching for Fiona. An unspoken bond.

He closed his eyes briefly as another vision pricked his memory; cold stone walls, ramparts stretching as far as the eye could see, and then there was a fortress.

_The vermin had referred to him as "the knight" to Fiona._ He thought as his eyes clenched.

_So, I am a knight. _He mumbled to himself as his hand rubbed his beard. _That is what I am, a knight. But what is my name?_

Another vision came flooding in. It was a room, a large room with a table in the center; a huge round table, with many seats around it, most of them set empty. The men from the previous vision were sitting around the table laughing, enjoying goblets of some sort of drink.

He blinked. In the distance he heard a screech, the bird had found her. He smiled. He released a breath.

The stranger walked back into the cottage to find Rowan still sitting at the table waiting for Fiona to come back. He had made supper for them, but neither had any sort of an appetite. Rowan stirred her food with the fork round and round her plate. The silence seemed to make the situation even more intensified.

Coming up behind the child his hand tenderly grazed over her dark hair, landing on her shoulder where he gave a gentle squeeze. She looked up; her big dark eyes tear laden. She smiled halfhearted as the drops trickled down her cheeks. Taking his thumb he brushed the tears away.

xxxxxxxxxx

She had left the stream heading into the woods, her body still riveting from the pain of his assault. She walked; it was more like wandering really. Wandering anywhere to escape from the thoughts of what had just happened. Deeper into the woods she roamed allowing the sounds, smells and sights to erase her pain.

As darkness approached she headed back to cottage, back to where her daughter undoubtedly was waiting, worrying about her mother.

It was pitch dark when she returned.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Quietly the door creaked open, causing his instincts to kick in and ready himself to battle the unknown. His fist wrapped tightly around the hilt of the dagger he slowly turned to face the door. Rowan had long since fallen asleep by the time Fiona returned. She lay in their bed with Cu close to her. The stranger stood firm next to the hearth, his body tensed in a defensive position. Relaxing only slightly as she closed the door behind her.

Fiona walked over without a word to where her daughter lay, tidying the covers around her, petting the dog on the head.

Silently she made her way to the table where she noticed a bowl, cup and some cutlery placed neatly waiting for her arrival.

"I made stew," he muttered as the grip around the hilt loosened.

Looking from his face down his torso she glanced upon a crimson spot just above his waist.

"You are bleeding again," making her way to touch his side.

"Just a few stitches ripped." He said quietly. "I'll be fine."

Her hand lifted his shirt as she took the dressing off the wound.

"All my hard work to tend to you and make you heal will be for naught if you get an infection. Be still while I tend to this," she said sternly.

Forcibly she examined him then stitched his opened wound. Fetching her usual healing items from the cupboard she returned to where he stood.

"Try not to bust these open will you," her tone showed little emotion, her eyes seemed blacker than ever, empty as though there was no person there dwelling within her body.

He placed his hand tenderly on hers, squeezing it gently. His fingers calloused and rough but his touch was tender, caring, and respectful. He spoke more in this one act of kindness than any words he could have mustered would have. He didn't know what to say to her at any rate. What could one say at a time like this? He felt he had to reach out to her, to let her know that he was here at least. Worthless, useless yes but here just the same.

One day soon, he would make the way to avenge her pain.

She raised her head allowing him to see for a fraction of a moment inside the true her. Tears welled in her ears just ever so slightly.

"Fiona," he began in a mere whisper.

"Please do not," she begged. "It will only make things worse."

The stranger bent his head down with a nod. She cleared her throat and pulled her hand from his hold. Quickly she began to clean the remains of his mending's, putting everything in its exact place. Something he had notice that was striking about the cottage, nothing was out of place, ever.

"Well, we know who you are now at least," she whispered as she pulled her hand from his. "Or at least what you are."

To be continued…


	6. Fear

**Disclaimer: the usual**

**Hi everyone thanks again for all the reviews, emails, favs, alerts and hits to the story!**

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**I love you all! Glad you like the story it's been fun to write!**

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**As always a special thanks to the best "eyes" ever The Girl in the Library Corner~ my Beta Reader~**

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**The song that I listened to over and over while I wrote this chapter is Fear by Sarah McLachlan~**

**ENJOY**

**From Chapter 5~~~~"Well, we know who you are now at least," she whispered as she pulled her hand from his. "Or at least what you are."**

_Morning smiles__  
><em>_like the face of a newborn child__  
><em>_innocent unknowing__  
><em>_Winter's end__  
><em>_promises of a long lost friend__  
><em>_speaks to me of comfort_

_but I fear__  
><em>_I have nothing to give__  
><em>_I have so much to lose__  
><em>_here in this lonely place__  
><em>_tangled up in our embrace__  
><em>_there's nothing I'd like__  
><em>_better than to fall__  
><em>_but I fear I have nothing to give_

_Wind in time__  
><em>_rapes the flower trembling on the vine__  
><em>_nothing yields to shelter it__  
><em>_from above__  
><em>_they say temptation will destroy our love__  
><em>_the never ending hunger_

_but I fear__  
><em>_I have nothing to give__  
><em>_I have so much to lose__  
><em>_I have nothing to give__  
><em>_We have so much to lose..._

_Sarah McLachlan_

**Chapter 6: Fear**

His gentle hold was steadfast as she attempted to leave him. Her body longing to be away from him, their arms stretched out as his long fingers wrapped tenderly around her wrist. What possessed him to hold on to her he did not know but he had to. She looked back over her should at him. Her eyes were empty, void of any feelings or depth, black as the night. He willed her to stay with his gaze. For a moment her body relaxed. What did he want from her here in this moment? He knew not but knew he needed to be there for _her_.

No words were exchanged between the two; merely the sound of each other's breath filled the room alongside the crackle and popping of the fire. Seconds turned into moments when finally his fingers slid down, lacing them within hers. There they stood two strangers, an arm's length apart, yet connected, forged by some unknown bond together.

Finally her hand slipped from his.

Fiona left his side, slowly making her way to her bed. She was exhausted; having nothing to give anyone at this point, she crawled in bed next to Rowan and held her.

He stood watching her from across the room. After a few moments that seemed to him like a life time, he crossed the floor to his pallet and lay down. Cu crawled into the crook of his arm, placed his head on the stranger's chest and enjoyed the rub down he received.

They each lay motionless for the remainder of the night, alone and still in their own solitude. Each longing, searching for some sort of peace, finding in its wake they faced fear; a fear that held onto them relentlessly clinging to them like some powerful enigma.

He rolled over on his right side releasing a deep breath. His eyes wandered from his frustrated lack of ability to find sleep. They roamed the cottage, finally catching the gaze of Fiona who lay there watching him. After sometime of gazing at him Fiona rolled over, let out a deep sigh.

Sometime just before the break of dawn their eyes closed and they slept.

* * *

><p>xxxxxxxxx<p>

FOUR DAYS LATER~~~~~~

_His dream-_

In one swift graceful movement he swung his leg off his horse, running with the speed and grace of mountain lion straight into his bowls of his enemies. With the single movement of a strong wind he drew his sword free from its sheath. Standing braced on spread legs he cut into the flesh with a single movement, never faltering. Another coming from behind only found the steel cold blade pushed deep within his belly. He had the skill of a champion, no emotion, it wasn't personal- merely his duty. Death. It was all around him. Standing in the middle of the battle without a thought except death, time after time this warrior cut into the souls of each man who came within his grasp.

"Tristan, behind you!" There came a sudden shout from a man with long golden feral locks as the mighty swing from his axe cut into the back of the approaching attacker.

He turned with great precision in the direction of the voice only to find another attacker headed toward him with sword. Skillfully darting around he maneuvered among his enemies turning on the ball of his foot he spun delivering a fatal blow across the back of his attacker's neck, severing his head completely off.

His eyes shot open and found he was but a hair's breath away from Rowan's face.

"Good morrow selchie man," she piped with a smile.

"Good morrow Rowan," he smiled, if nothing this girl was persistent.

He sat up stretching the night's kinks out of his body. Rowan sat with her knees bent and her chin braced on their caps.

"Selchie man…." she began.

"Tristan," he cut her off.

Her face bore a quizzical expression.

"I am called, Tristan," he replied wiggling her nose between his two fingers.

"You remember your name?" She shouted with great exuberance.

"Yes Rowan, I remembered my name, at least I think I did," he said with knitted brows.

Looking around the cottage as he stood up, he turned back to Rowan. "Where is your mother?"

"She went into the forest early this morn," her head looked down toward her lap as she fiddled with her hands. "She said I was not to follow her."

Taking her face within his hands he looked at her.

"She just needs time Rowan," he said, bending down he placed his forehead upon hers and looked her in the eyes. "I swear to you I will avenge her." He whispered.

Just at that moment Fiona walked through the door.

"Màthair, His name is Tristan!" she screamed with great excitement as she leaped from the floor and ran to her mother's open arms. "He remembered…he remembered!"

"Tristan eh?" she smiled back at him as she examined him for several moments. "Aye, Tristan, it suits you."

"Humph, Fiona," he smiled sarcastically. "It suits you," His brow cocked as the right end of his mouth tipped upwards. He raised his hand and scratched his chest.

"Rowan, take the leather pouch and fetch some water from the stream," Fiona instructed.

Tristan took his shirt and began placing it over his body. Rowan ran out of the cottage with lightening speed.

"So now you know who you are," Fiona said. "Your wounds are healed nicely and you are strong."

"Yes, it would appear that you were correct, my memory loss was only temporary," he stated with a slight reservation in his tone.

"So, I am sure that you will be wanting to return to your comrades now that you have your memory back," Fiona spoke softly with a mixed tone of emotions. She had been so sure that she wanted him gone as soon as possible, but now that the time had come she felt unsure within.

Tristan did not respond as he placed his boots on and made his way outside.

* * *

><p><em>Does she want me gone that badly? <em>He wondered to himself as he closed the cottage door.

Picking up the bow and couple of arrows he had made, Tristan headed into the woods to do some hunting for real meat; he was growing tired of fish.

Wandering through the thickets of the woodland he began reflecting about what she said. He should be heading back; it was after all his _duty_. Who was his duty to, Rome, Arthur, himself? He didn't give a damn about Rome. As for himself, what did care? He had nothing. No, his duty was to Arthur and his brothers. He laughed out loud.

_Arthur and his brothers_. He thought. Only a few days ago they were nameless faces in his dreams, now he remembered their names. He remembered everything. He sat down bracing his back against a tree waiting for their meal to approach. He thought about his life for a few moments. As memories flooded his mind the scout looked up toward the tree tops. The morning sun trickled in, bouncing its reflective light through the leaves and over branches. He took a deep breath and leaned his head against the rough bark.

_What if I stayed?_ He thought as he stretched his right leg out fully. He propped his left arm on his knee cap.

_They all probably think me dead anyway. _He began to justify this irrational thinking in his mind. _I'd be a coward, and I am no coward! _

He let out a deep rumbling growl. Just then he saw his prey. As the anger within him swelled he readied himself. At just the right second his arrow claimed its prize.

_Rabbit, they would feast on rabbit this night_. He thought proudly as he lifted the hare's limp lifeless body from the ground.

* * *

><p>THE NEXT DAY:<p>

"Tristan," Rowan laughed as the scout fell backwards into frigid the water. She laughed so hard she fell into her mother's lap as she did. Her arms wrapped around her mother's neck. Her small head titled back as her mother poorly attempted to hide her own laughter.

"You think it funny do you?" he scowled at the cackling pair. "Well then, we shall see just how funny you think this is." He said making his way out of the stream's water headed straight for toward the two females who sat laughing on the bank.

Rowan and Fiona were both laid flat on the grass laughing uncontrollably. He leaned his wet dripping body over them, shaking to and fro like a dog, causing a shower of stream water to trickle off his clothes and hair. The scout suddenly reached down, scooped Fiona off the ground, and headed straight back to the stream.

"Don't you dare Tristan!" she screamed as she wiggled and writhed within his grasp, kicking yet still laughing uncontrollably.

"DO IT, DO IT," Rowan roared with great laughter as she ran circles around the pair.

As they reached the stream's edge Tristan's attempt to throw Fiona in alone was foiled as Rowan ran behind him. Pushing with all her might she caused both he and Fiona to plummet into the cold water of the stream. As they fell their bodies twisted so Tristan fell first still holding tightly to Fiona. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she braced for the icy water to sting her. The wake from the splash rippled white caps. The two sat in the water, Fiona on Tristan's lap completely drenched. Freezing water rushed around them. His grip tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. His soaked braids flipped across his face, sticking to his skin, her hair draped over his face in sporadic places as well.

Gently taking her hand she brushed both their hair off of his face, gingerly running her finger over his tribal marks. With his right hand opened palm down against the small of her back and the other placed between her wing bones he held her. Her chest began to heave robustly; he glanced down watching her every move. Pleased at what his eyes beheld before him. The soaked material of her dress clung tightly to her amply curved bosoms, her nipples hardened from the cold water. Try as he may he was unable to refrain from his body's natural reaction. He quickly closed then opened his eyes biting his lower lip.

Staring acutely into each other's eyes, their lips turned rapidly a purplish-blue color, quivering from the ice cold water.

_Move in you fool. _He thought to himself as his shivering lips parted.

_Gently now, be careful. Just make it one gentle brush against her soft lips. _He moved closer toward her. As he did he thought for sure he was not imagining that he felt her body give way toward him.

Suddenly his plans were foiled as they were interrupted as Rowan and Cu jumped in next to them.

* * *

><p>Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx<p>

The evening's meal had come and gone, Rowan lay peacefully and soundly asleep.

Tristan sat in front of the fire in his usual stretched out pose. His head rest nicely and comfortably on the back of the chair. He was becoming comfortable with this life, having no real desire of returning to Badon Hill. But he knew he would have to, truthfully should have already.

Standing up he stoked the fire then placed another log on the embers. He headed outside to find Fiona.

The moon brilliantly lit the night sky with its bright white color. It was so round, so close and full. It seemed so close that you could just stretch your arms out and hold it within your hands. He saw her figure down by the stream; he made his way to where she stood.

She looked over her shoulder as he approached. They stood next to one another in a few moments of silence just enjoying the beauty of the moon.

Finally she spoke.

"The reason I burnt your clothes when you first arrived was because I did not want Sèitheach or any of his clan finding them. I thought you might be a knight from the Wall although I wasn't sure. Now I know you are not only a knight…you are the famous scout of Arthur." She said never looking his way.

"Famous?" He replied with a half chuckle.

"Aye, you have a reputation…" she paused.

He smiled out of the side of his mouth letting out an uneasy chuckle. It was a low rumbling chuckle.

Moving uncomfortably Tristan rocked back and forth from side to side on his boots . His cheeks became hued with a brush of crimson. Something he hadn't done since he was a young boy.

"…for being one of the greatest trackers and scouts ever. I have heard it tell that you could track a snowflake in the dead of winter." She continued.

Again they were quiet.

"Fiona," he finally said softly as he cautiously placed his arm around her shoulder.

He half expected her to pull away from him. To his surprise and pleasure, she actually leaned into his hold. Within moments Fiona placed her right arm around his waist. Tristan pulled her close bending down to kiss the top of her head gently. He was quiet for a few moments, fearful if he spoke she might come to her senses and pull away from him.

Finally he took a deep breath.

"Fiona," he whispered again. "You know I have to leave soon."

"Aye," she replied softly almost regretfully. "I know."

"Come with me, Fiona," he asked as his hold on her tightened fearful she would flee. "You and Rowan, come back to the Wall with me. It isn't safe here for you."

"And do what Tristan," she said coldly. "be your _'woman'_?"

He had no answer for her. They both knew the improbability of their union, at this time. He was a slave, with no future for another three years.

He stood before her looking down caringly into her dark eyes.

Taking his hands he cupped her face, slowly lowered his mouth towards hers. His lips were parted slightly. At this moment he wanted her, wanted to kiss her, wanted to protect her, wanted something from her, anything.

She titled her head back fluttering her eyes closed. He could hear the shallowness of her breath slowing as his mouth approached her. Their lips parted, she could feel the warmth of his breath just inches away. She wanted him at this moment, wanted him to kiss her, wanted him to touch her, and wanted something from him, anything.

His nose brushed against her skin softly. She could feel his whiskers wisp across her skin making it tingle.

Tristan moved in closer just as he was about to cover her mouth with his lips, Fiona pulled back, bracing her forehead against his lips.

"Tristan," she whispered breathlessly. "Please."

**To be continued…**

**Hi there I hope you liked the chapter… hang on tight because things are coming in the next couple of chapters. And we have not seen the last of ****Sèitheach either…. Mr. McNasty! **


	7. Fumbling Toward Ecstasy

**Disclaimer: I only own my characters all others belong appropriately to Touchstone Pictures King Arthur 2004!**

**Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews, hits, fav and alert notes and of course your emails. I so enjoy the interaction.**

**Enjoy!**

**Possession by Sarah McLachlan is the inspiration for this chapter. I love her work**

**Chapter7: Fumbling Toward Ecstasy**

**Possession by Sarah McLachlan**

_Listen as the wind blows  
>From across the great divide<br>Voices trapped in yearning  
>Memories trapped in time<br>The night is my companion  
>And solitude my guide<br>Would I spend forever here  
>And not be satisfied<em>

And I would be the one  
>To hold you down<br>Kiss you so hard  
>I'll take your breath away<br>And after I'd wipe away the tears  
>Just close your eyes dear<p>

"Tristan," she whispered breathlessly. "Please."

There was a brief pause before he spoke. His breath so warm against her skin.

"Fiona, I would never hurt you," he whispered softly, his lips brushed against her ear as his hands moved slowly up and down her back.

Her cheek slowly caressed the whiskers of his beard as she moved closer to him. The intense heat of desire raced through her body. His lips slightly opened, the warmth of his tongue trailing down her neck then across her shoulders.

"Yes Tristan, you would," she said as she caught her breath. "Maybe not intentionally but you would just the same," she answered as she placed her hands on his chest. "And you are the sort of man that a woman would never get over either. I cannot afford that in my life," she paused. "….again."

Her words stung, truthfully and painfully stung deep within his heart. He had hurt women before, many times before. And although he never intended to hurt any of them, he had. Truthfully, until this moment he hadn't really cared that he hurt them. He had always been a solitary man. True his memory had returned, but with it came deep regret. Regret for the pain he had apparently caused so many people by his caviler actions. Was this to be payback, denial of her affections?

If he did stay here with her would it be enough for him? Would a simple life with a woman and child keep him satisfied? Or would the thralls of his duty, honor and the engagement battle call him away from her? What else did he know but death? Would he loose her?

All he knew at this moment in time was that he wanted her. He wanted to take her in his arms to hold her tenderly, and wipe away her tears. He ached to kiss her. No, he longed to kiss her as she should be kissed, so hard that it would take her breath away.

* * *

><p><em>Through this world I've stumbled<br>So many times betrayed  
>Trying to find an honest word<br>To find the truth enslaved  
>Oh you speak to me in riddles and<br>You speak to me in rhymes  
>My body aches to breathe your breath<br>You words keep me alive_

_And I would be the one_  
><em>To hold you down<em>  
><em>Kiss you so hard<em>  
><em>I'll take your breath away<em>  
><em>And after I'd wipe away the tears<em>  
><em>Just close your eyes dear<em>

Fiona's POV~~~~~

What if she asked him to stay with her? Make a new life with her and Rowan. She knew he would never be satisfied. He would always have that hunger within him, the never ending hunger for battle. He was a warrior. She could not contain him here with her. She would be forsaken again. He would leave her, they all did. So many times she had been betrayed in what she thought was true love of a man. Betrayed by those she trusted to protect her. So many times she had been betrayed by the words that seemed to fall so easily from their lips.

Yet here he stood speaking what seemed to be an honest word. Would she be once again enslaved to the riddles and rhymes spoken by a man? Promises that might be made so easily would undoubtedly be broken with one simple breath.

Her head was comsumed by his words, his breath, his very being so intense and close. Her body ached for his touch, ached to feel the silk of his skin next to hers. She faltered, swaying in the wake of his grasp. She could feel herself succumbing to his very touch. Knowing that she should resist and find the strength to defer his intentions. She half heartedly attempted to push back. His hold still firm yet extremely gentle. She knew deep within that he would never force her, and that alone was a great comfort.

* * *

><p><em>Into this night I wander<br>It's morning that I dread  
>Another day of knowing of<br>The path I fear to tread  
>Oh into the sea of waking dreams<br>I follow without pride  
>Nothing stands between us here<br>And I won't be denied_

_And I would be the one_  
><em>To hold you down<em>  
><em>Kiss you so hard<em>  
><em>I'll take your breath away<em>  
><em>And after I'd wipe away the tears<em>  
><em>Just close your eyes dear<em>

"Fiona, just relax and let me hold you," she heard his thick husky accented voice whisper soothingly as it echoed in her ear.

She did, not having the strength nor the desire to be outside of his caring arms at this point and time. Placing her head on his chest he felt her body melt into his. Her arms wrapped around his waist, his around her shoulders. She could completely let go, but she feared if she did the years of pain, neglect and abandonment would flood through in an ocean of unstopable tears. She could not allow this to happen.

Some time had passed, how much they both were unaware, neither caring. She looked up at him, into his eyes. They appeared different from the first time that she gazed into them. Now they were kind and caring. Before she could stop herself she tipped up and kissed his mouth. It was her that took the initiative because she desired it.

He reciprocated her desire with his own, covering her mouth with his lips as his hands captured her face. There was a passionate need of comfort in their kiss. His left hand moved to brace the back of her neck as his right hand supported the small of her back. Fiona's own hands roamed roughly over his back, pulling his shirt free from his breeches as she slid them on his bare skin. Slowly Tristan bent down on one knee taking her gracefully and swiftly with him as he laid her on the grass.

His body lay softly on top of hers, with his right leg lightly draped over her. His back arched as she removed his shirt, his arms swiftly releasing themselves from the sleeves. Tristan once again took her within his protective hold as they lay back down on the softness of the thick grass. The warmth of his tongue found the sweetness within the caverns of her mouth. He groaned deeply as his uncontrollable desire for her swelled within his breeches. Pressing himself firmly against her thigh be began to quiver as his body rocked back and forth against her.

He kissed her neck with such passion and tenderness unlike any she had experienced since she was loved by Rowan's father. Fiona was breathless, losing all sensibility of her mind as her desire under his touch yielded. She arched upward to meet him. Seductively she lowered her hand from his chest down the length of her own torso, causing the material of her dress to bunch upward, exposing her soft flesh. His hands instinctively slid down to caress her thighs. Slowly touching the skin over her knee caps then back up again, trailing the inside of her legs until they reached his final destination.

Her body arched to meet his touch. She moaned softly allowing her head to tilt back as his open mouth kissed from her chin, to her neck, trailing down to nip her collar bone before covering the naked flesh of her breasts. His right hand cupped her breast as his lips wrapped themselves around her hardened nipple.

Somewhere in-between the sheer pleasure of his mouth on her body and her own desire, Fiona found the strength to set his aching length free from its tight bulging casing. Tristan nearly lost his breath as the feel of her fingers wrapped around him. Skillfully Fiona began to stroke his need for her as his attack on her breasts intensified.

Unable to contain his carnal need and desire for this incredible woman within his arms Tristan moved carefully on top of her. Her legs opened welcoming him as she encircled them around his waist locking at the ankles.

Lifting his head he gazed tenderly upon her face before bending down to kiss her mouth, stopping just before his lips met hers. Her face bore the look of longing. Slowly and gently he entered her feeling the heat of her body grip him tightly. As he did Tristan felt her body give way completely at his entrance. His face buried itself in her neck as he pushed deep within her. Her hands raked his back as he slowly moved in and out. Her body coming alive as the pair fumbled toward ecstasy.

Finding the needed release, the pair collapsed from exhaustion. Holding Fiona tightly within his arms, her head resting contently on his shoulder, she breathed freely for the first time in a long time.

The brightness of the moon shone on the couple laying under the tree listening to the sound of rushing water.

To be continued…


	8. A Lie

Disclaimer: The usual….

Chapter 8: A Lie

The next morning:

Tristan came outside looking for the ever rambunctious Rowan. She was nowhere to be found. He had to admit to himself that he actually missed his usual morning interrogation from the seven year old. Standing on the first step of the cottage he stretched his back and looked toward the sky. It was another beautiful day, the sun was shining down warmly on his face and there was just a trace of a breeze.

He looked around to see the whereabouts of the females. His eyes cast themselves toward the stream, half expecting to find Fiona there. He smiled as he looked at the tree. There stood the tree under which where he had several hours with her lying in his arms. She was completely his, even if it was only a few hours. She bore no walls, no pretense, and no armor. He smiled, remembering the way she felt in his arms, the touch of her skin and the sound of her breathing. His head tilted downward as he recalled how many times they had found pleasure within each other during their brief interlude. His breath quickened at the thought of the way she had kissed him, with such passion and force. He had never been kissed by a woman like that. Oh sure, he had kissed many woman that way, but never had _he_ been kissed in such a manner. He liked it.

Looking around he found Fiona at the small wooden barn, stretching some animal pelts on the wall to dry in the sun. Suddenly the familiar sound from his hawk circling ahead diverted his attention momentarily from Fiona. He watched as she glided swiftly in the bright morning sky. A smile came across his face. Looking to his right he gazed upon Fiona once again. He noticed she remained dedicated to her task. He smiled at her beauty. Could he actually be falling for this woman?

He smiled and looked down at his boots. He chuckled out loud.

_Yes, I have fallen for her. _He thought to himself with a huge smile crossed his lips. _So this is what it feels like. _He laughed once again shaking his head.

Strolling over toward her he once again glanced around for any sign of Rowan.

"You should not have let me sleep in," he whispered impishly as he slipped his hands on her hips, pulling her slowly back against him, gently kissing the side of her head.

Her body tensed and pulled forward away from his hold. Taking a few steps to the side Fiona turned and looked into his eyes. She managed a smile, but he knew that there was a guarded meaning behind it.

"I made you some food for your journey," she stated matter of factually. "You should go before Rowan returns." She looked quickly away toward the woods then back in his direction.

Tristan was stunned, admittedly for the first time in his life he was caught unawares. And by a woman no less. He stood motionless, mouth dropped open like a fool, and his mind swirled with emotions. Something he never did, for anyone.

_Did she really just dismiss me so cavalierly like this? _He wondered as he slightly shook his head in disbelief. _She is pushing me on my way, this woman._

He let out a half hearted chuckle in complete dismay as he rocked back and forth on the heels and toes of his boots. Without notice he spun around so his back was to her. He began to walk away, but just as quickly spun back and took her in his arms. No woman had ever dismissed him like this and she would not be the first.

He laughed, the left side of his face jilted upward. His demeanor had changed, it had suddenly darkened. He was just as he was when he had first arrived. He lowered his head, growling from within the deepest cavern of his chest.

"So I am to be dismissed just like that is it woman?" his voice so deep it was almost inaudible.

She could tell he was hurt more than angry, yet still she stood braced for whatever he intended to do to her. It would not be the first time, nor would it be the last time, that a man used his physical force and power to gain what he wanted. Fiona matched his glare darkness for darkness and held her head high, arching her back.

"You are leaving scout, best you go now. I do not want Rowan upset any more than she will be," Her voice and her stare empty, void of any feelings. "I will tell her you bid your goodbyes."

"And what of you woman?" he snarled, his breath hot against the skin of her temple. "Will you be upset at my departure as well, or was I just pleasurable release for you last night?" His grip tightened around her arms, he could feel his rejection quickly turning into rage. Tristan felt her body relax, preparing herself for whatever he was going to do to her.

He closed his eyes, would he be no different than all the rest of the men. Was he prepared to stoop that low because of his wounded pride? Slowly Tristan loosened his grip until he just barely held her. He would let her free if that is what she truly wanted. She remained still her breathing soft, almost calming. Tristan placed his chin on the top of her head.

"What happened between us last night Fiona," he paused. "Did it mean nothing to you?"

"What happened between us last night Tristan was," she paused, her voice softened to a whisper. "It was wonderful, incredible Tristan." She said as her head rested on his chest. His arms encircled her.

For a brief moment she stayed comforted within his hold. Then she stiffened once again, pushing free from him.

"It should not have been. I should not have allowed it to happen," She mumbled as she stormed off toward the cottage.

Once again the scout was left chopped at the knees by this woman. Standing foolishly like some love sick bitch in heat as his heart sank to the depths of despair. What power had he given her to do this to him? He would not stand for it!

He rushed toward her grabbing her arm flinging her around. He stood over her, snaked his hand forcibly around the back of her neck pulling her to him.

"I have never begged for the affections of a woman and by all the gods I will not begin now Fiona!" He roared. "I will not believe that what happened between us last night was nothing more than a release of lustful desire!" He growled as he pressed his lips upon hers. "As you said, you should not have allowed it to happen."

His kiss was meant to be hurtful. She had panged his heart, his pride and she deserved it.

After he released her the knight stormed off, heading up stream. Fiona watched as he made his way south. He was leaving, without another word, without anything at all. She felt tears welling in her throat and made no effort to dismiss them. They flowed freely, stinging her skin as they trailed down her face.

She felt her heart ache.

_Damn him. _She thought as she wiped the tears from her face. _Damn that man._

She had lied to him, what had happened between them last night meant more to her than she wanted to admit. It had been years since she felt this way about any man. After Rowan's father left she swore she would never allow another man to occupy a place in her heart. Never give another man that much power to hurt her. She had been successful, until now that is.

In an instant he was gone.

To be continued…


	9. The Return

**Disclaimer: The usual, This is purely for FUN FUN FUN...**

**Hi there thanks so much for all the interest and support of this story. I am so happy you are pleased with it! As always a special thanks to "Girl in the Library Corner"...my champion eyes! Thanks to "Quiver for his arrow" (AWESOME pen name!), "BlackQueen92" (gorgeous horse!), "xXRoweenaJAugustineXx", "Cleo Nightingglae" and as always the ever faithful and amazing Brandibuckeye!(you are awesome!), for the reviews and emails. Also to all those who have marked this and my other stories as their favorites I tahnk you.  
><strong>

**Chapter 9: Returning**

He treaded on for hours, following the stream southward. With each step he took his chest tightened with rage that he had actually been so soft, so weak as to let a woman belittle him as she had. Whoever it was that said she was a witch was right. She was a witch! For she had surely bewitched him in not seeing things the way they really were.

His hawk kept him company, assisting him in his journey. The only female he could ever trust not to betray him.

_So this is how it felt? _He thought as he reflected back on his past experiences with women. Slowly and without notice his pace slowed to a near stroll. How many women had lay victim to the sting of his rejections, he couldn't even remember, nor did he care. Perhaps now he would be more thoughtful in his actions, perhaps, more than likely not.

Night fell, covered by a star filled sky. He only stopped for brief spurts of rest, finding a tree to brace up against for his back. He was hungry, his stomach churned and growled. He would have to wait until sunlight to find food. He had left with no provisions other than the dagger in his boots. Well at least she left him his boots, perhaps he should be grateful, but he wasn't.

He sat braced against a tree, one leg bent near to his chest, the other stretched out. He thought he should be coming close to the place in the stream where he fell. The stream was not as wide or deep at this point as it was near Fiona's.

_Fiona. _The very thought of her name in his mind panged his heart. _Damn her, damn that woman._ He knew he didn't mean it but he felt it, all the same.

His thoughts turned to Rowan and how she must be feeling at this moment. He had grown fond of the young girl and would miss her pestering greatly. His one regret was that he did not tell her goodbye himself.

He titled his head back against the tree trunk, closed his eyes and thought of last night with her in his arms.

_Remembering~~~_

_Finding the needed release, the pair collapsed from exhaustion. Holding Fiona tightly within his arms, her head resting contently on his shoulder, she breathed freely for the first time in a long time._

_The brightness of the moon shone on the couple lying under the tree listening to the sound of rushing water._

_"Fiona," he whispered as his hands gently caressed her upper arm. _

_"Aye, Tristan," she giggled for a moment as she buried her face in the crook of his arm._

_"What is so humorous?" He inquired._

_"Nothing, I am just not used to calling you anything but selchie man that is all." She laughed looking up at him._

_He chuckled "I was growing fond of it myself," he said as he pulled her closer to him._

_He rolled over so his body was draped over hers. Taking his hand he tenderly brushed the hair from her face placing the majority of it behind her ears. He looked at her smiling._

_"You are so beautiful," he said as he kissed her face in sporadic places, tenderly trailing down her neck, cupping her breast in his hand before taking her nipple within his mouth. Her body arched upward to meet him. _

He opened his eyes quickly from his thoughts, his jaw tightened. He stared into the night. He was alone, all alone, just as he had always been.

* * *

><p>Tristan finally made it to Badon, a three day journey, all on foot.<p>

It was dark and past curfew. He stormed up to the gates, the first time he had not been on horseback.

"You up there," he yelled. "Hey you idiot Roman!"

A centurion leaned over the ramparts looking down at the figure below highlighted by the glow from the torches.

"Hey down there, be gone with you. The gates are closed for the curfew you will have to return in the morrow," he stated.

"If you do not open theses gates, my dagger will find you and you, you Roman bastard, will not see the morrow. _NOW OPEN THE DAMN GATES_!" he growled loudly.

The two centurions standing watch on the ramparts immediately recognized the voice that bellowed up at them. Fear raced through them for they knew well what he was capable of.

"Open the gates," they both yelled down to the guards on duty.

The wooden gates were barely opened as Tristan stormed through like a gale force wind.

"I thought he was dead," the one whispered to the other as the scout brushed by them.

"He is a ghost," the other replied.

The scout growled deeply under his breath as he passed the two guards.

"Fucking imbeciles," he groaned loudly. "Stay out of my way."

As Tristan made his way into the fort he heard the usual sounds coming from the tavern; loud chatter, music, sounds of female giggles coming from the filthy women making their trade for the evening with too much laughter and gaiety for his liking, but he was thirsty and hungry.

No sooner than he entered the tavern everything came to a standstill. People froze exactly where they were stood, drinks overflowed their cups, woman fell to the ground as they were dropped by their dance partners and mouths fell opened. Tristan ignored them all making his way to his usual seat in the corner. Shortly after his sitting down whispered hushes emanated throughout the tavern, yes their tongues were wagging. He growled within his chest as he despised the attention.

"BY ALL THE GODS, HE LIVES!" Tristan closed his eyes tightly as the roaring sound of Bors' voice screeched across the tavern. He took a deep breath and held it.

The next thing he knew his back and shoulders were being slapped with jubilious cheers from his fellow knights. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Mary, one of Vanora's barmaids. She was a tiny thing with rounded plump curves, curly brown hair and dark eyes. Mary stood with a pitcher in her hand and a smile upon her face. She was in love with Tristan. She tolerated his gruff moods because of her feelings for him, even though the scout never returned her feelings; she longed to be his woman.

"Get me some ale and food woman and be quick about it," he snapped to the barmaid that stood near the table. Her face was bright just at the sight of seeing him. He was in no mood for the longings and desires of any woman at this time.

Mary just stood there watching him, her heart skipping several beats as she looked adoringly into his face. Tristan looked into her eyes, his mood darkening by the moment.

"Get me my ale and food wench….now," he growled between gritted teeth and clenched eyes.

"Well nice to know your time away hasn't changed your mood or temperament my friend," Dagonet chanted sarcastically as he passed Mary who desperately tried to choke back her tears.

"We thought you dead Tristan," Galahad said as he took a place across from the scout who was now hunkered over the table, trying to avoid the ever growing crowd around him.

"Do I look dead?" He snapped in a low grumbling tone.

"Well, truthfully you have never looked better," came the unmistakable laugh belonging to Gawain as he too took his place near the scout.

Mary returned with a mug of ale and a bowl of the days stew, carefully placed it in front of Tristan watching him out of the corner of her eye.

He groaned as she placed the food before him, half tempted to grab her wrist and pull her into his lap. He ached to release this pang within his chest. He hurt and wanted everyone around him to hurt as well.

He lifted the mug of ale and drank it in one long gulp, then took several spoonfuls of stew as Mary filled his mug to the brim. Shoveling a few more spoons of grub into his mouth he swallowed hard. No sooner had she filled the mug than his hand wrapped around it and raised it to his mouth. Finishing it swiftly he slammed the container to the table and pushed back in his chair standing up.

He heard the muffled sound of his name being called getting louder and louder, as he looked over he saw that ugly baldheaded mug from his vision calling his name repeatedly.

"What in the hell do you want Bors," he yelled loudly as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Where have you been my friend, you have been missing for near a month's time," Dagonet said. "Your horse returned without you, we spent over a week's time looking for you, we found your bloodied weapons near the cliff." He said

"We thought you dead Tristan," Arthur's voice was heard from the back of the crowd.

Pushing back he took a few steps from the table then turned.

"Well it appears I am not," he said as he caught Arthur in a stare. "I was wounded, I healed, I am back and this is done, do not ask me anymore about it." He stated sternly before turning back around making his way to his quarters.

He could feel what seemed like every eye in the fort on his back as he walked off into the darkness.

Once inside his quarters he closed the heavy wooden door and leaned his back against it. The room was lit only by the light of the moon shining in from the window. He crossed the room and plopped on his bed, laid his head on the pillow and placed his arm over his eyes.

He would deal with Arthur in the morning; right now he only wanted to sleep.

To be continued…..


	10. The Discovery

**Disclaimer: the usual...**

_I Love You_ by Sarah McLachlan: **This song is the inspiration for this chapter.**

Oh but every time I'm close to you  
>there's too much I can't say<br>and you just walk away

And I forgot  
>to tell you<br>I love you  
>and the night's<br>too long  
>and cold here<br>without you  
>I grieve in my condition<br>for I cannot find the words to say I need you so

Oh but every time I'm close to you  
>there's too much I can't say<br>and you just walk away

And I forgot  
>to tell you<br>I love you  
>and the night's<br>too long  
>and cold here<br>without you  
>I grieve in my condition<br>for I cannot find the words to say I need you so

**Thanks so much to xXRoweenaJAugustineX x, jen, EDM11, Elsker Di (YES FIONA IS MAD! I AGREE) and BlackQueen92 for the reviews! Thank you for all the hits and emails as well... I love you all. You keep me writing and my heart soaring.**

**A Special thanks to my two "Katie's" ~~~~my Beta Reader Katie and my daughter Katie~~~~ This chapter is just for you both. You are both an inspiration to me and my writing. Grab a box of tissue!**

**The struggles of love can most often be heartbreaking. Fiona is caught in the termoil of fear and letting go. **

**"Peace in the struggle, to find peace."- Sarah McLachlan **_I Wont fear Love_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: The Discovery<strong>

A month and a half had passed since she watched his figure storm off into the distance, taking with him the very heart of her with each step he took. She wanted so desperately to call out to him, to run after him, but fear would not allow her.

Each night since his leaving whenever she rolled over in her bed, her eyes instinctively cast themselves down to the front of the hearth where his pallet was, expecting to see him sleeping. She longed for just one more opportunity to watch him sleep. Watch as his chest would slowly rise and fall with each breath he took. She ached for the moments when he would suddenly open his eyes and return her gaze. His face softened by the glow of the fire, his beautiful dark locks cast across his face. Never a word exchanged between them, none was needed.

Regret is a powerful enemy, all consuming of the soul with its relentless taunting and she was engulfed by it.

Why did she fear so much? Why had she not told him the truth? The truth being that she loved him. Now he was gone, gone forever.

xxxxxxx

Rowan had not taken that news of his departure well at all. Fiona could feel, all too well, the void that was growing between them. Rowan slept with the shirt he had worn, one of the two that had belonged to her father. She curled up with it like a blanket on the pallet where he lay. She would not sleep in the bed next to Fiona.

Since Tristan's departure the young girl was becoming more and more withdrawn. Fiona would often find her standing at the stream's edge, watching downstream. Watching for his return.

Fiona knew that Rowan was looking for him, waiting for his return.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rowan sat on the wood pile with her knees tucked up under her chin. She was supposed to be stacking the pieces in a neat row near the cottage door. Supposed to be, but she wasn't, she was being defiant, once again. Something she was doing more and more as the days went on. Cu lay near the stack of wood basking in the warm sun, having a dream he was chasing something. She smiled as she watched his paws jerk back and forth as he whimpered. He was having a lovely dream she reckoned.

The sound of a familiar screech in the distance could be heard. Her head jetted upwards to the sky, her eyes straining to see. Immediately Rowan jumped up moving closer into the clearing. Her body slowly moved in a circle as her hand lifted above her head blocking the sun's rays so she might see the hawk. The screeching became louder.

"Màthair," she yelled running back toward the cottage. "Màthair, come quickly!"

Fiona heard Rowan calling for her and ran to the door. As she took a few steps outside she too heard the sound. Her heart raced beneath her chest, pounding with each step she took. She smiled joyfully. Could it be?

_Oh by the gods please yes. _Her heart begged.

"Tristan," she whispered as she held her breath within her bosom.

"He is back, Màthair, he has come back to us!" The child danced round and round with great glee and joy. "I knew he would." She exclaimed as she twirled round and round with extended arms.

Fiona looked skyward. Her shoulders drooped and her heart sank. She placed her hands on Rowan's shoulder, pulled her back close to her body. It was not her, it was not his hawk.

"Rowan," Fiona whispered as she knelt down to her child.

Fiona turned Rowan around taking the small child's hands within hers. She could not bear to look into Rowan's eyes so she did not.

"Rowan, it is not his hawk," she whispered.

"Yes it is!" She shouted. "It is her and he _is_ coming back to us!" She yelled pulling away from her mother.

Rowan ran downstream followed by Cu close on her heels.

"Rowan!" She shouted. "Rowan, please come back." Fiona ran after her daughter.

"Tristan!" Rowan shouted as she ran. "Tristan," her eyes scanned the terrain looking to see him. "Tristan, where are you?" Her voice softened in sadness. "Please Tristan," she whispered as tears welled in her throat.

Fiona grabbed her arm and spun her around. She knelt on the ground and held her daughter tightly.

"No Rowan," she said holding her. "It is not his hawk, and Tristan is _not_ coming back to us." She said looking heartbroken into her daughter's eyes. "He is back at the Wall with the other knights, where he belongs."

"He belongs here with us!" Rowan screamed loudly as tears rolled down her tiny cheeks.

"I wish Rowan," her head titled downward as her voice spoke softly.

"No you do not! You never wanted him here." She cried. "It is your fault," she screamed. "It is your fault he left us. You chased him away!"

"Rowan, please you do not und-"she began before Rowan cut her off.

"I do," she yelled. "I do understand! You sent Tristan away, just as you sent my father away." She pulled away from her mother.

It was at that moment that Fiona felt the sting of her child's hand across her right cheek. The burn was not near as tortuous as the burn within her heart at the words that now echoed in her ear. She watched in an inconsolable heartache as Rowan ran off toward the cottage, weeping.

As though her very soul had been ripped from her body, Fiona sank to her knees. Her breath gasping as her heart stopped beating within her chest. Her body slowly fell to the ground where Fiona curled into a ball and wept uncontrollably.

It was hours before Fiona made her way back into the cottage. Rowan had fallen asleep on his pallet clutching his shirt. She leaned her back against the door, her hand still on its handle Fiona looked at her daughter, and she took a deep breath. Walking over to Rowan she knelt down, pulled the blanket over her body, brushed her hair with her finger tips and bent down to kiss her forehead.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rooster crowed at dawn's first light. Slowly Fiona snaked her body under the covers reaching for Rowan. Remembering that she was not there Fiona rolled over. She shot up looked all around finding Rowan nowhere in sight. She got out of bed and made her way to the door. She stepped out into the morning's mist covered greeting. She inhaled the sweet thick air of the day as she looked all about for signs of her daughter.

"Rowan," she called out. "Petal, where are you."

Fiona pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she made her way to the stable.

"Rowan," she called as she walked in the open door.

_That is Odd. _She thought to herself as her brows knitted, an uneasy feeling came over her. Something was not right; the door was never left open.

"Rowan," she called out once more.

Coll was gone, as well as his saddle. He heart began to race in sheer panic. She ran back into the cottage frantically looking around. As her tear filled eyes roamed around the interior she suddenly stopped. It was gone, the pouch they used to fill with food when they were going deep into the woods. She turned to the left looking down at the pallet. Her blanket was gone as well.

Rowan was gone.

Fiona ran out of the cottage screaming her child's name. Falling to her knees she covered her face with her hands.

_What have I done? _She cried to herself.

Hurriedly she jumped up, made her way into the cottage and got dressed.

_She could not have gone far. _She thought as she slipped on her shoes.

Quickly Fiona ran into the woods, looking for signs of Fiona and Cu. Deep into the woods she went, searching in all the places she knew Rowan to go to.

"Rowan," she called and then whistled for Cu.

Suddenly she heard a sound. She stopped dead in her tracks. A screech came from above the tree canopy. Closing her eyes she held her breath.

"No," she whispered out loud. "Rowan, no."

In an instant her fear became a reality. Rowan was not in the woods.

Fiona turned and with every ounce of energy she ran back toward the cottage.

Rowan was not in the woods. She had gone to find Tristan. She had gone to the Wall.

To be continued….


	11. A Reckoning

**Disclaimer: same as always….**

**Thank you kris89 (glad to hear from you again, it's been a minute, I always enjoy your reviews!), x XRoweenaJAugustineX x (hang in there broken hearts can be mended), and Azure83 for your reviews and to all the emails, hits and Fav marks this story has gotten!**

**As always Katie thanks for the best pair of awesome eyes any girl could have when writing…. Hurry up and post your next chapter!….**

**This chapter is intense… I know that the last few chapters have been on the dark side….but so necessary for the storyline. Trust me when I say you will see the purpose of it all. **

**Thank you for all your support in this and all the other stories!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: A Reckoning<strong>

The earth shook like thunder beneath the traveling band of Woads headed for Fiona's cottage. His hair flowed behind him, his fist clenched tightly on the reigns in his hand while his other fist pounded his right leg. His nostrils flared as he took in the air rushing toward him in a fury. His eyes were dark and menacing, even more so than normal. Hatred and betrayal loomed within his body. He would not tolerate being betrayed and she had done that very thing.

Sèitheach dismounted his black stallion; his head slowly turned as his eyes glared everywhere. He was on the hunt, and his senses keenly in tuned to everything around him. His four companions dismounted, tethering their horses. Sèitheach motioned with his hand for them to spread out. Two headed toward the stream while the others made their way to the stable.

Standing just outside the cottage, Sèitheach turned to face the woods. His head tilted backwards as he inhaled a deep breath. Something was not right, he could feel it.

She had lied to him.

Midir, his scout had found tracks heading back to the Roman post. Tracks made by a single man on foot. She had aided Arthur's scout, the very man they had been hunting. She would pay, and dearly.

His eyes clenched till they were nearly shut, his black brows knitted and his nose crinkled. He growled, than spat on the ground.

Turning he lifted his right leg and kicked open the door. As the door was flung open it smack into the wall, causing a few items to fall from a shelf, hitting the ground and smashing. He stepped inside and grunted. His eyes scoured the surroundings.

He stomped around the cottage, knocking things off the shelves as his anger intensified. He flipped the table over causing everything on it to crash and break. His mood was darkening by the second. He let out several snorts as he pulled the covers off her bed. Taking the covers to his nose he inhaled, he was looking for the scent of that Sarmatian bastard in her bed. He tossed the blankets down to the ground and turned. His eyes cast to the pallet. His brows creased. His head turned back and forth as it tiled just ever slightly. Something caught his eye; it was protruding out from the bottom of the pallet. He stormed over and jerked the bedding up, it was s shirt. It was a man's shirt.

His teeth gritted tightly as he lifted it to his nose. Sèitheach clinched the material his fist, raising it to the heavens, his scream echoed throughout the woodlands. His rage was fierce; he would kill her for her betrayal.

Xxxxxxxxxx

She ran faster than she had ever run in her life. She had to make it back and pack her provisions. She had to find Rowan.

Just as Fiona came out of the woodland and turned the corner of the cottage she ran into Midir, who was Sèitheach's main scout. Midir was just as ruthless and cunning as Sèitheach. His hands gripped Fiona's arms. His face was close to hers as he growled in her ear.

"I have been waiting for this moment for a long time witch," he groaned with pleasure. "You have finally made the mistake I have longed for. Now you will feel his wrath."

Her heart raced as a sick feeling over took her body.

"Sèitheach, the witch has returned," he called out with a wicked evil smile across his lips. His hands squeezing her arm tighter.

Fiona tried to break free of his hold but it was useless. Tears filled her eyes, she knew death was near. She was thankful at least that Rowan was not here. She closed her eyes and prayed to the gods that she would make it to the Wall, make it to Tristan.

Within seconds Sèitheach was standing behind her. She was pressed between the two large men. She could not avoid the involuntary trembling of her body as she felt Sèitheach's fingers lace around her neck.

"Fiona, Fiona," he murmured gruffly. "You disappoint me woman."

She could hear his teeth grinding they were clenched tightly as he spoke, his breath the heat of hell's furnace. Midir stood holding her as an evil twisted laugh rumbled from deep within the bowls of his empty soul.

"You lied to me, you whore, and you know how angry I get when I am lied to," he growled as he took her by the left arm, leading her into the cottage. Her body was nearly lifted off the ground by his strength.

He tossed her into the opened door. Her body flew through the air and she fell to the ground like a rag doll. Her head hit the turned over chair. Two strides and he towered over her.

By this time the rest of his band was standing inside watching with great pleasure.

She felt his hand grip her again as he pulled her up by the roots of her hair. His face pressed against hers.

His eyes were cold and dark as they glared into hers. Everything disappeared in her world, every sound, every thought, and every memory, gone.

It surely was only a moment or two but to Fiona it was a life time that passed before he spoke again.

"Now you die," he snarled.

With that he grabbed the overturned chair and threw her in it.

"Rope," he groaned.

Within seconds her arms were held to the side as her upper body was bound to the chair.

"Foolish woman," he yelled as he led his party out of the cottage.

Fiona's head spun in a million directions, her heart pounded so hard she thought for a second it would burst from within her body. Never before had she been truly afraid.

The last thing she remembered hearing was Sèitheach's voice as he yelled "BURN it to the ground, with her in it!"

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><p>The smell of smoke slowly seeped into the cottage descending from the roof and sides. Fiona began to choke as she struggled to free herself from the ties that bound her. Frantically she looked around for something to cut the ropes. She bounced the chair sideways when suddenly she spotted the broken plates and cups near the overturned table. If only she could get to them she could escape through the hatch.<p>

_Calm, you must remain calm and think Fiona. _She told herself. _Rowan, you have to make it Rowan before Sèitheach finds her. _

She took a deep breath as she reminded herself of her purpose in life, Rowan. Carefully she rocked the chair back and forth all the while coughing and choking as the smoke intensified within. Shortly the chair tipped on its back and she steadied herself for the impact, titling her head forward so she would not bang it on the floor.

She screamed aloud as her body hit bits of broken pottery. This was a good thing as the sounds of pain masked her attempted escape to those who waited outside for her demise.

After a few moments of struggling she grasped a large piece from a broken pitcher. The fall had loosened the bindings slight enough for her wiggle her arms to her front.

She masked her endeavor with screams of torture. She had to make Sèitheach believe she was going to burn as he desired her to. Finally she was free of the bindings.

She coughed, she choked, she begged as she made her way to the deer rug that covered the hatch. The cottage was engulfed in an inferno now. The thatched roof was caving in with huge chucks. It was now or never if she was to escape. Crawling to the hatch she lifted it, dropped down into the cellar and lowered it behind her. Just as she did she heard a loud crash as the majority of the roof fell in.

Fiona sunk to the ground of the cellar, coughing as she gasped for fresh air to fill her lungs. Carefully she reached over her shoulders trying to pull the bits of pottery stuck in her back from the fall.

Sparks filtered from above her she could not hesitate any longer; she had to make her way through the tunnel she had dug. She crawled through spider webs and muck on her hands and knees, thankful that she had the fortitude to chisel this tunnel. When she reached the end of the passage, Fiona bent upward pushing the covered hatch up. She had ensured that the opening was hidden behind a bush incase Rowan had to ever use the escape tunnel. She crawled out and crouched down next to the tree and hid behind the bush.

As she looked up, her stomach sickened as she watched their cottage burn to the ground. She saw Sèitheach, Midir and the rest of the Woads sitting in their saddles watching her burn within the cottage. She dared cast her eyes upon him. His face was filled with pleasure at the thought of her dying body burning into ashes. She was filled with hate for the first time in her life. Pure hatred.

Now she had to wait. Wait until she was sure they were gone. Once she was certain they were gone, she would go to the Wall. She prayed fervently that Rowan was safe and would find Tristan.

To be continued….


	12. Chance Encounter

**Disclaimer: the usual...**

**OK, so I felt we all needed a lighter chapter after the last few so I hope you enjoy this one... The hunt for Rowan chapter will be posted in a few days...**

**THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the reviews, emails hits and Fav marks….. Love you all.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12: Chance Encounter<strong>

It had been two days and nights; two long arduous agonizing days and nights. Her back still writhed in pain from all the cuts and bruises of the fall. She knew there were still a few pieces of broken pottery lodge in her back but try as she might she was unable to reach them. Hopefully there would be a decent healer at the Wall. She could only hope.

She searched for any signs of Rowan's trail as she went. There were none to be seen.

_Where could she be? _Fiona thought in anguish.

Rowan was smart and could take care of herself in the wild, even if she was young. She knew how to hunt for berries, roots and herbs to feed upon. But there were many other dangers lurking in the woods that she would not be able to fend off: wild animals or worse than that Sèitheach and Midir. Fiona closed her eyes for a moment and prayed to the gods that they would watch over her. She quickened her pace.

She must find Tristan; if anyone could find Rowan it would be the famous scout.

_Tristan you are my only hope_. She thought as tears filled her eyes. _Stop that Fiona, no time for tears._

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, bunching her dress hems up as high as she could. She came out of the woods into an open field. Fiona stopped for a moment to catch her breath, her hands pressed against her knees, her body bent while she gasped for air.

Suddenly she heard the familiar sound, her loud screech. Her eyes cast themselves skyward. It _was_ her this time, it was Tristan's hawk. He must be near by. Fiona stood as tall as she could to look around the field yet trying to keep herself hidden just in case.

She smiled as she watched his hawk circle. For the first time in days she breathed a sigh of relief.

Tristan would find Rowan of that she was certain. But she must hurry, there was little time.

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><p>Carefully she made her way across the open field. The grasses were knee high. Coming upon a small patch of woods she stopped. She heard the soft whinnying of a horse. Fiona bent down, crouched among the tall grass to remain hidden as best she could just in case. Before she knew it she was nearly face to face with a beautiful white stallion. The horse was fully saddled and reined. The steed lifted his head catching her eye, snorted slightly at her. Slowly she made her way toward him, gingerly rubbing his silky nose with her out stretched hand. She kept her eyes ever watchful to her surroundings.<p>

Fiona quickly stopped, with one hand on the horse's reins while the other rubbed his flanks. She heard the muffled sounds of seductive giggles made by a woman. She stretched her head up and was able to make out two figures in what was obviously a moment meant to be private. She noticed a shirtless man whose trousers where sensually being pulled off his lower extremities.

With great swiftness and agility Fiona mounted the horse, kicking it hard to make him gallop off.

Within seconds of hearing his horse's hooves beating heavily on the ground Galahad shot up to his feet. His eyes scanned in the direction of his horse's last whereabout. His brows scrunched downward. He grabbed at his breeches attempting to pull them up. The woman who lay with him also jumped up, she was completely without a stitch of clothing and seemed to care not that she was completely naked.

"Hey there, my horse, that is my horse! Come back here," Galahad shouted as he ran after his stampeding steed, awkwardly pulling his breeches up. "Come back here!"

"I am sorry sir," Fiona yelled loudly behind her. "It is of the utmost urgency. You shall find your horse at the Wall."

The horse galloped off into the distance. Galahad was helpless to stop him. The horse was not mindful to his whistles or commands.

"Damn horse," he grumbled as he headed back toward his companion. "He never listens. Why can he not be like the other knight's horses? "

He stomped up to his naked companion who stood with her hands on her hips, her bare plump breasts glistening in the sunlight. At any other time this sight would have had his face buried joyfully between them, but he walked passed her. She snaked her arms around his body in an attempt to pull him back to the bedding. He grabbed his boots, his mood foul and distasteful. He would catch hell among other things for losing his mount.

"Get dressed," he said as he laced his breeches. "We have a long walk to the Wall."

"Walk!" she screeched. "I am NOT walking any where's."

"Suit yourself," Galahad said as he grabbed his shirt and began to head to the Wall. "I shall never hear the end of this from my brothers." he mumbled to himself.

"Wait, don't you dare leave me here all alone," she screamed grabbing her clothes.

"You better get a move on it," he stood in place as he finished getting dressed.

Within moments the woman was running toward him. He took her hand and they began walking. The pair walked for some time.

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><p>They surrounded her, their sword's drawn. The white stallion moved in a slow cirlce facing the other horses.<p>

"Where is the rider of this horse?" Gawain shouted. "I'll not ask you again woman."

Suddenly they heard a loud noise.

"Horse thief," Galahad shouted as he came running up. "Nothing I hate more than a horse thief!" He gruffly stated.

"I am not a horse thief sir," she answered sharply. "I told you I was borrowing him and you would find him at the Wall."

"You stole him from me, so you are a horse thief." Galahad said jerking the reins from her hand as he reached up pulling her out of the saddle.

She fell to the ground. Her eyes clenched as the pain from her earlier wounds busted open. She could feel the warmth of the blood trickling down her back. She bit her lip and grunted.

"Galahad," Dagonet scolded. "That was unnecessary."

"Horse thief," he mumbled.

The knight's let out a loud roar as they looked Galahad up and down. His companion chased after him in a huff.

"You should have waited for me," she huffed.

"Now I see why you lost your horse pup," Dagonet chuckled. "What have told you about that? Always tether your horse before you go down with a woman." He let out a loud laugh.

"I did not lose my horse, she stole it from me," he growled again pointing to Fiona who was just standing up.

"What do you say the punishment is for stealing the horse of a knight," he groaned looking up at Dagonet.

"A knight?" she said with a sudden high pitch to her voice.

"Yes woman…I am a knight," he grunted "It appears you are a deaf horse thief."

"You are knights from the great wall?" She continued as though she had not been paying attention to a word that Galahad had said to her. She kept her eyes on Dagonet as she sensed him to be the most reasonable one of the group.

"Yes we are my lady," Dagonet. "Pay no attention to Galahad, his pride was merely wounded as you caught him in a …" looking to the half naked woman now standing at Galahad's side. "….Um caught him in a rather uncompromising situation."

Galahad glared at the large knight.

"Yes, well I am sorry for that, but it was of the greatest urgency I can assure you sir," looking at the youngest knight with apologetic eyes.

"Then you know one called Tristan," she continued looking around for any sign of him.

"Tristan," Gawain smiled then let out a low chuckle.

"Yes he is the scout for Arthur," she said quietly. "Do you know who he is?"

"We know who Tristan is, woman" Galahad scuffed, taking the reins of his horse then quickly mounting. He extended his hand to aide his woman to the back of his saddle.

"Well, it appears there is something our Tristan has been keeping from us." Lancelot chuckled slyly.

"Will you take me to him sir," she pleaded grabbing hold of Dagonet's leg. "It is a matter of urgency, please I beg you. My child…."

"Tristan has a child by you?" Yelled Bors.

"NO" she shouted looking at Bors with knitted brows. "Please I beg you we have no time to waste, she is in danger." She said looking up at Dagonet.

"Come my lady," he said extending her hand, his gentle eyes reassuring her that they would not harm her.

"Your back is bloodied my lady," Gawain finally noticed.

"Aye, I had," she stopped not sure what to say. "I had an accident."

The men looked at one another knowing she was lying, but did not want to press the matter further.

"I am a healer," Dagonet stated. "I will tend to your wounds when we reach the Wall."

Fiona swung her leg over the back of his horse and held him tight. In a moment's time the group off at a full run.

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><p>Was not more than a half hours ride back to Badon. Fiona could feel herself growing weak from the blood she had lost and the exhaustion that was setting in.<p>

The group came to a small hilltop and stopped. She peered around Dagonet's left arm.

_So this is the Wall_. She thought to herself. Her eyes fluttered she felt faint. Dagonet kicked his horse gently a few times. Soon the group was galloping toward the huge gates.

"Open the gates," a loud cry was heard from the ramparts.

The group made their way through the gates and into the court yard near the stables.

Tristan and Arthur stood at the stable doors. Tristan was giving his report to Arthur from his scouting mission he had only just himself returned from. He stood watching as his comrades dismounted. Suddenly he spotted her as Dagonet's legs hit the ground.

"Fiona?" He whispered under his breath. His face bore a look of complete shock and disbelief.

The scout hurriedly made his way to Dagonet's side.

"Tristan," she whispered as her body fell into his arms.

To be continued…..


	13. Finding Rowan Part One

**Disclaimer: The usual I don't they do except mine which I do they don't! That was simple… it's all for fun and fun for all (Shameless plug for Mads Mikkelsen's aka Tristan- new movie The Three Musketeers ).**

**Thanks so much for all the reviews onix –thanks so much that meant so much to me; xXRoweenaJAugustineX x thank you that dun dun da is forever playing in my head BAAHAA (you rock!); Brandibuckeye- as always and forever you are amazing and thank you I think you have read every story I have written so far and review all the time YOU ARE AMAZING! ~~~~Jen, thanks I have been a busy girl- how cool your daughter is named Rowan, next chapter Finding Rowan Part Two is dedicated just for her-**

**And as always my amazing and wonderful awesome and brilliant pair of eyes Girl in the Library Corner~~~ you are my ROCK STAR!**

**Chapter 13: Finding Rowan Part 1**

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><p>The group made their way through the gates and into the courtyard near the stables.<p>

Tristan and Arthur stood at the stable doors. The scout was giving his report to Arthur from the scouting mission he had only just himself returned from. He stood watching as his comrades dismounted and began to make their way toward the pair. Suddenly he spotted her, just as Dagonet's leg hit the ground.

"Fiona," he whispered under his breath. His face bore a look of complete shock and disbelief.

The scout hurriedly made his way to Dagonet's side.

"Tristan," she whispered as her body fell into his arms.

Xxxxxxxx

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><p>He barely caught her as she tumbled from Dag's horse. Her body fell limp in his extended arms, her head tilted back and her face scrunched in obvious pain. He knelt on one knee as he supported her head with the crook of his left arm. With his other arm he gently pulled her closer to his chest, holding her by her left hip for support.<p>

"Fiona," he whispered once again as he bent his head toward her face. "Fiona."

Dag quickly reached for his water pouch. Splashing some from his hand, he gently tapped his large fingers against her face.

"She is injured Tristan," he whispered. "Take her to the healing rooms."

"No…..No," she struggled to get up. "Rowan…Tristan you have to find her."

Tristan looked around when he suddenly realized that the girl was no where around.

"Where is the child?" He asked looking at Dag.

"The woman was alone," he replied.

"Fiona, where is she?" He shook her gently. "Where is Rowan?"

"Let her drink something Tristan," Dag scolded him. "She has lost a great amount of blood and she is weak."

"Tristan," she said as she forced herself to stand. "You must go…. you are the only one who can find her. Please Tristan; she is all I have in this world." Her eyes filled with tears.

The scout placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Fiona," he firmly stated. "What happened to Rowan?"

"We argued," her headed cast down. "About you…. she was upset….she blamed me for chasing you away…said it was my fault you left…..she slapped me across the face." She looked into his eyes. "She was right, I did." Her eyes welled with tears again. "I woke the next morn and she was gone."

He took her face into his hands.

"Please Tristan," she begged. "Find her; she is all I have in this world."

He braced his head against her forehead.

"I will bring her safely back to you," he promised in a whisper. Looking up at Jols he stated, "Saddle my horse immediately."

"Tristan," Fiona said placing her hands on his forearms. "Sèitheach"

The scout snapped his head around to face her at the sound of that name.

"What of him?" He scowled.

"He knows you live, he…." She began.

"He what, Fiona?" Tristan growled with flaring nostrils.

"He and his clan came back to the cottage while I was looking for Rowan. When I returned they were there, he found your shirt….he knew I helped you." She began carefully. She saw the anger building in Tristan's eyes. "They… "

"They what woman?" He snarled taking her in his arms.

"They tied me to a chair… and…" she closed her eyes barely able to speak the offenses.

"What did he do to you Fiona?" He demanded gingerly.

"They tied me to a chair and," tears once again welled in her throat; it was the first time she had allowed herself to actually think of what had happened. "And then they set the cottage on fire, leaving me to burn within its walls." Her eyes closed and she began to tremble.

Tristan took her within his arms holding her tightly. His eyes looked around at the expressions of his fellow knight's. They were surprised as they had never seen him so tender or concerned for any woman before.

"I escaped through the tunnel….in the cellar," she looked at him. "Please find her Tristan."

"I will," he kissed her forehead gingerly and handed her to Dag. "Tend to her old friend; take care of her for me." He looked at Fiona. "I trust him with my life, he will not harm you," he said reassuring her. Looking back at Dag he continued, "She is a healer as well, an excellent one." The tip of his lips lifted slightly in a rarely seen smile as he gazed back into her eyes.

"I will my friend," Dag said in a low quiet voice. "Come Fiona, we need to tend to your wounds. You will need your strength when Tristan returns with your child." he gently placed his arm around her waist and held her arm as he took her to the healing rooms.

She turned her head over her shoulder and looked at Tristan.

"It's alright Fiona," he motioned with his head for her to go. "I will return with her."

Jols returned with his stallion and within a second's time Tristan was in the saddle. The other knight's jumped on their horses, including Galahad. Fiona looked at him in a rather astonished state. He merely nodded his head and smiled kindly at her.

"We will all bring her back, my lady," he said as he passed her.

She smiled, and then turned toward Dagonet. It was at that moment that Tristan saw her back. Her dress was darkly stained with the blood she had lost. His jaw clenched tightly as his fists tightened around the reins. He would kill Sèitheach for touching his woman he swore to himself as he clicked his tongue to motion his steed to go. The knight's rode out in search of Rowan.

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><p>"Tristan is the best scout I have ever known Fiona," Dag said reassuringly. "If anyone can find your daughter it will be him."<p>

"Yes I know," she said as she straightened her body. "His reputation reaches well north of the Wall. He is known and feared even there."

"North of the Wall," Dag stopped suddenly looking down at her. "That means you are a…" His right brow cocked as his chest tightened as did his grip on her arm.

"A Woad," she replied. "I suppose if you consider anyone who lives north of the Wall to be a Woad. Then aye, I am." She stared at him, at his now reserved expression. She became cautious. "I am actually from a small island off the very northern coast, if you must know."

The pair eyed each other pensively.

"Vanora," he shouted as they passed the tavern. "Come here."

Fiona snapped her head in the direction of the noisy tavern. She spotted (whom she could only assume was this Vanora) a fiery looking redhead heavy with child making her way towards them. She also noticed an array of other women eyeing her, then the large knight. She could only imagine they were women who made their living for coin.

"I am busy Dag, what is it that you want?" she growled as she approached. "Who is this?" She asked as she eyed Fiona.

"This is Fiona," he responded. "She is Tristan's woman."

"What?" Fiona jerked her head back towards him. "No, I am not 'Tristan's woman'!"

Simultaneously Vanora loudly stated with a smirk. "Tristan's woman?"

Fiona looked at Dagonet then and Vanora, then back at Vanora with wide eyes and an open mouth. Finally she cast her eyes at Vanora.

"No…no…I …. I am... I am" she stuttered with an awkward laugh. "I am not Tristan's woman."

Her eyes caught the sudden glare from several of the tavern women who were standing close by ease dropping in on the conversation. They were notably annoyed, shocked and dismayed at the news that Tristan had a 'woman'.

One in particular for sure, she was a tiny thing with curly brown hair and dark eyes. She appeared different from the others. Fiona reckoned she merely worked as a server not a whore. It was easy to tell the difference. She noted that this girl bore a saddened look upon her brow, as though her heart were wounded at hearing the news.

The whispering and the rumors began. Oh how Fiona deplored this type of behavior and surely did not miss it.

"Pay them no mind," Vanora whispered as she stood by her. "They have nothing better to do with their time then wag their tongues. Perhaps if they put their tongues to better use they might be workin." She said glaring back at the group of women. "GET OFF WITH THE LOT OF YOU!" She shouted as she shooed them with her hands. "You too Mary, back to work." Vanora said in a much kinder tone.

"Fiona this is Vanora," he stated as the two women exchanged nods. "She is woman to one of the other knight's, Bors." He continued looking at Vanora, "She is in need of another dress," Dag said as he led Fiona to the healing rooms. "Bring it to the healing rooms."

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><p>Dagonet took Fiona into the healing room and began collecting the necessary items to aide her. He handed her a blanket and instructed her to remove her dress and cover herself with the blanket.<p>

"So you are a healer as well," he said as he continued to gather the items from the cupboard.

"Aye, I was taught by my mother," she said as she began to remove her dress.

Her eyes clenched as the pain shot through her body as the material of her dress stuck to the dried blood on her back.

"I am not Tristan's woman," she said quietly. "Just so you know."

She heard the large man chuckle loudly. In a second he was standing next to her.

"This is going to hurt some," he said. "I am sorry; I will try and be as gentle with it as I can." Looking at her he realized he was not telling her anything she did not already know.

"You are," he said quietly.

She flinched as he wiped the dried blood away from her wounds. He tried to be gentle but it was little help.

"I am what?" she replied through clenched teeth.

"His woman," he mocked.

"I told you I am not," she said adamantly.

Once again he chuckled.

"I have known Tristan for many years," he said as he continued to clean her wounds, her body flinched. "And I say you are."

He looked at her square in the eyes.

"And I saw the way you looked at him," he said one eye brow cocked and a smile upon his face.

"We are friends," she stated. "Nothing more."

"Tristan does not have friends," he laughed. "Not many anyway and certainly none that are woman."

"Yes I saw all those women look at me when you called me his 'woman'," Fiona said rather annoyed.

"You are not jealous are you my lady?" He laughed.

"Do not be ridiculous," she scuffed turning her head in the opposite direction.

"Well, worry not your pretty little head," Dagonet said. "He has never given a rat's ass about any woman." He said as he cocked his head towards her ear. "Before you…that is."

Fiona looked up into the man's strong but gentle face. She wanted to show her anger at the things he was suggesting but could not help to cast a smile across her face instead.

"Hold on, brace yourself. I have to remove these bits from some of your wounds," he said.

"Broken pottery," she said under her breath looking into his eyes. "I fell on some broken pottery."

"Brave woman," he whispered.

Diligently he worked on her wounds, removing all the pieces from her back and then stitched up what needed stitching.

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><p>Vanora appeared shortly with several dresses, some towels and washing items.<p>

"I thought you would be in need of these as well dear," she said with a smile. "Dagonet will show you to the baths when he is finished and you can freshen up." She smiled at Fiona which made her feel welcomed. "I have had the chamber maid make ready a room for you and your child in the keep near Tristan's quarters." She looked at Dag then at Fiona. "Well, you don't think I will have them stay in his quarters do you? Have you seen it? You would think a monk lives in there. Besides he will not have it any other way Dag."

Dagonet smiled.

"Thank you," Fiona said. "Thank you both for your kindness."

"Posh, think nothing of it dear." The redheaded added on her way out. She turned and smiled. "Yes, you are just the sort of woman I always imagined him with. You will fit in well round here." Looking at Dag she added, "I'll send her round some food in a bit, poor thing she must be starved."

With that the door was closed and she was gone.

"Wrap the blanket around you and follow me," he said. "I'll take you to the baths. No worries, I will bring all this with us."

The pair made their way to the baths which were located near the keep. Dagonet opened the heavy wooden door and let her in. He placed the towels and bathing items on the bench.

"I'll just take these to your room," The knight said. "I will be back in a few moments so whenever you are ready come out here. I will take you to your room. You need rest."

Fiona nodded her head then turned to face the steaming water of the baths. Dropping her blanket, she slowly stepped into the soothing baths. It felt good for her aching body, but her troubled worried mind would not rest until he had returned with her child safe and sound.

**To be continued….**


	14. Finding Rowan Part Two

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Touchstone pictures. All others belong to me.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Jen's daughter Rowan****. **

**Thank you onix, BlackQueen92, xXRoweenaJAusgustineXx, and my ever faithful and wonderful brandibuckeye for your amazing reviews…. **

**Thank you for all the emails…..**

**Also thank you for all those of you who have been so amazing and read this story…You are why we write… to all those who read.**

**And as always, thank you to Katie, for all your amazing advice and insight. You are the BEST! And I should NOT attempt this without you... :-)**

**Chapter 14: Finding Rowan part Two**

**Athair: Gaelic for father**

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><p>Rowan:<p>

She was running away, as far away as her pony would take her. She was running to him, to her selchie man. After all he was hers; she had found him. She was mad at Fiona, hated her at this moment in time.

Rowan had everything she needed for her trip, her pouch, bedroll, fur blanket, and dagger.

If she followed the stream and stayed close to the embankment, she wouldn't get lost. The stream would take her to the wall.

It would take her to Tristan.

* * *

><p><em>It was her fault he left us, her fault he did not say goodbye to me. It is all her fault. She never wanted him there, never liked him being around,<em> she thought to herself as she saddled Coll.

_My athair left without saying goodbye to me too. It was because of her, because of __Màthair__. It was her fault he left us; she chased him away, just like she chased Tristan away. _Tears filled her eyes as she mounted the pony.

"I will find Tristan and he will let us live with him," she said looking down to Cu who traveled close by her side.

* * *

><p>Fiona taught her daughter the ways of the woods, in case she ever had to survive on her own. She had always said that the woods were Rowan's friend, the stream was her brother and the earth held everything she needed to stay alive. What berries should be eaten and those that must be stayed away from. Fiona was a healer, she knew these things and made sure Rowan did as well.<p>

The day turned out to be sunny and warm. The grass was green and Coll wanted to eat it all the time, but Rowan knew that she had to make good time, they must keep going.

"We have to keep going Coll, we are on a mission to find Tristan, and there is no time for play," the seven year old scolded the pony.

The trio had traveled a long time, Rowan was tired and wanted to rest but she knew she must not, not until it grows dark. The sun was still shining.

"I am glad it is not raining," she shouted to Cu who was ahead sniffing in the grass. "I do not like walking in the rain. It hurts my head when it pounds and my clothes get heavy." The dog barked as if to agree with the child.

* * *

><p>Night was coming; she made camp by the stream. Rowan went into the woods to gather some broken branches and wood for a fire. She gathered some berries and mushrooms.<p>

"My belly is making grumble noises," she laughed as Cu licked her face.

Cu lay next to her by the fire. It was very dark except for the light from the fire camp. Suddenly she heard the sound of a wolf howl. Rowan shot up, holding Cu who was growling.

"Shhhhh Cu," she said to him in a whisper. "Shhh they will hear you and come for us."

She tried to remain calm. Tristan told her so.

"Tristan said a good scout always has his wits about him. I want to be a good scout like Tristan," she whispered in his ear as she pulled him under the coverlet. "Tristan said to always listen and be still. He said that you learn more by watching than running about. I don't understand that but he said it to me so it must be important."

_I must not panic. They will smell fear. He told me that your enemy can smell your fear. I do not want them to smell my fear. They will come for me. They will get me,_ Rowan thought to herself as she held Cu tighter.

She quickly put more wood on the fire to make it bigger. She lay with Cu under her furs. She was trying to be brave, like Tristan had told her. It was hard to be brave when you are only a seven year old girl.

Soon the sound that frightened her was gone. Rowan settled in for some sleep. As she lay watching the flickers from the fire her thoughts reflected on the fight she had with her mother.

_I should not have slapped màthair across the face. I should not have done that. It was wrong of me, s_he thought as she wiped the tears that trickled down her cheek.

* * *

><p>The sun was up and shining after the trio was well on their way to the Wall.<p>

"Coll you are a good pony," she said as she pet his neck. "You are good to carry me all this way." After a few moments of thought she said. "I hope you like living at the Wall. I wonder if they have other ponies there?" Rowan paused before she continued. "I wonder if there are any children at the Wall?" She smiled.

In the distance she heard the screech of a hawk. Frantically she looked up in the sky to find the bird. Her eyes clenched to bare slits when suddenly she caught sight of a dark image flying above her. It was not her; it was not Tristan's hawk. Rowan's head dropped down, her chin resting on her chest.

Rowan stopped to rest Coll and find some food for herself. Cu disappeared for a short while but returned with a dead rabbit dangling from his mouth. Rowan would not let him near her while he ate it.

"Your breath shall stink now," she stated with a turned up nose. "You shall not be permitted to kiss me." She growled at him as he made his way near her wagging his tale. "Ever again," she laughed.

Cu jumped on her licking her till she giggled so loud and hard her belly hurt. She lay down for a little while to rest and soon fell asleep. She woke when she felt something on her face. It was wet. It was a rain drop.

The skies darkened overhead with thick, ominous, gray, rolling clouds. She heard the sound of thunder. It was going to rain hard. Rowan quickly jumped on Coll and made him run as fast as he could. But it was no good. It was not long before the dark clouds found them.

The rain came, so did the thunder. Then the lightning flashed across the sky.

The rain pounded hard, but Rowan had to keep moving. She hoped by now they were close to the Wall. Three days the group had been traveling.

The thunder roared loudly. Then there came a loud crack and a flash of from the sky hit a nearby tree. Coll spooked, reared up on his hind quarters then stomped his tiny hooves on the ground. Rowan held tightly as he sped off into the storm. He ran faster with each lightening strike. The wind whipped as strong as a gale force.

Suddenly, Coll slipped in the mud and they tumbled to the ground. Rowan hit her head on a tree stump and was knocked unconscious. Coll ran into the darkness of the woods.

To be continued….

**OK- so thanks for your patience…. Next chapter has Tristan finding Rowan and returning to the wall. I wanted this chapter to be just Rowan so we could have an insight to her.**

**There is going to be a sequel with her and Lucan at some point. I want to show her inner strength and fortitude. Thanks for your support in this story.**


	15. Finding Rowan Part Three

**Disclaimer: ALWAYS AND FOREVER- Touchstones Mine are mine**

**A Special thanks to Cleo Nightingale (sorry for the spoiler), Jen, Onix, Luna Carter, Jennifer 1490, Brandinbuckeye and xXRoweensJAugustineXx and The Girl in the Library Corner (my super eyes Beta reader-Love you tons)...**

**Thanks for all the emails and readers who are following...**

**ENJOY!**

**Chapter 15…Finding Rowan Part Three**

They were making good time, traveling relentlessly into the night, stopping only when absolutely necessary. As they came to the top of a small hill they stopped, casting their eyes northward to see the darkened clouds.

"God help her if she is in that," Arthur stated with a concerned expression.

"The gods _will_ keep her safe," Tristan said quietly in an unusual expression of any type of religious opinion. "She is smart witted for her age," he added as he looked upon the faces of his companions.

"We had better get a move on it if we are to find her in that mess," Gawain said with urgency in his voice.

* * *

><p>The group rode hard into the raging storm. The wind was fierce and strong. Tristan grew concerned about her ability to remain safe in this tempest. They neared the stream and the wood line, slowing their horses to a walk as their eyes panned for any sign of the girl. Spreading out the group remained within eye sight of each other.<p>

Near a half hour had passed since the group reached the stream, at this time the storm subsided. The sun just as quickly appeared as it had dissipated.

"Tristan," shouted Galahad. "Hurry, come quickly!"

By the time the group had reached the young knight he was on the ground untangling a small pony which had gotten trapped within a group of fallen tree branches.

"Coll," the scout stated with a smile. "Do you see Rowan? Look for her… she cannot be far," he shouted.

They panned out searching for the girl but there was no sign of her.

"We should head north up the stream." Tristan stated firmly.

They walked in a line calling for the child, and calling for the dog. Suddenly in the near distance Tristan thought he heard the sound of barking.

He motioned for the group to stand still.

"Cu," the scout shouted as loud as he could. "Cu, come here boy!"

He looked around and let out a smile. The barking was getting louder. Tristan called for the dog once more.

The scout's eyes scanned the terrain desperately searching for the dog. He squinted his eyes to near slits so he might see better in the direction of the barking.

He smiled. Just about twenty yards off he caught sight of black and white fur hopping in and out of the tall grasses like a fish jumping out of the water.

"There," he said pointing his finger. He whistled. "Cu, come on boy."

Tristan knelt down on one knee, the dog took two leaps and was in his arms, busy licking his face uncontrollably. The scout let out a laugh that rang through the air.

"Come on boy," he said at last. "Rowan, where is she?" He made a loud whistling noise with his lower lip. "Go, find Rowan Cu!" He commanded.

The canine took off in a shot and the knights were not far behind him. It was not too far when they came to a clearing. The horses came to a halt as the men looked around.

"Tristan," Arthur motioned with his arm. "Over there."

Tristan sat up in his saddle to get a better lines sight. Then his heart stopped. He gasped for breath as he saw a limp tiny figure face down near a fallen tree stump. Within seconds he was off his horse running in her direction. Soon the rest of the knights had dismounted and were racing toward the body as well. He saw blood on the back of her head.

"Rowan," he screamed, fear and anguish was heard in his voice as he called her name again. "Rowan! NO….NO…by all the gods NO…"

He reached her and fell to his knees, looking to the skies he screamed in agony.

"You will _not_ take her from me…do you hear ….you will not take her from me!" He cried out to the heavens as he lifted her limp rain drenched body into his arms. Tears filled his eyes as he buried his head upon her small chest as he rocked her back and forth. The scout wept.

"No, Rowan….please you cannot leave us." He could be heard whispering through his tears.

Slowly he raised his head as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Tristan," Bors said tenderly. "Tristan let me see the child."

"You will not touch her!" He roared.

He did not listen to the grieving scout but took his hand and gently moved the hair that clung to her small face. Bors slowly reached his hand touching her face.

"She is still warm Tristan, she lives!' He shouted. "She lives!"

Tristan placed his ear to her face close to her nose. He looked up with a smile, letting out a laugh.

"Rowan," he whispered as he kissed her cheek."Wake child, open your eyes, please." His tears fell on her tiny face as his long braided locks shielding him from the others. Gently he shook her.

A sudden gasp for breath came from her tiny body as she choked up water.

"Turn her on her side quickly," Galahad screeched.

Tristan turned her over tenderly as he patted her back as she coughed up water.

"Rowan," he called her name as he held her in his arms once again.

"Selchie man," she smiled as her eyes fluttered as her hand reached to touch his markings.

"Yes little one," he smiled through joyful tears. "Yes, I am your selchie man."

He sat her up and continued to pat her back as she coughed more water up. He held her close within the safety of his arms.

"Come we had better make camp and get her out of those wet clothes," Arthur commanded.

Tristan picked her up and carried her toward where they were to make camp. It was getting dark and everyone was exhausted. Camp was made, a large fire started and Gawain went hunting for food.

* * *

><p>The scout tended to the abrasion on the back of her head, stitching it up. Afterward he washed her hair free of the blood.<p>

"Here Rowan," he said, handing her an extra shirt he had fetched from his saddle bag. "It's a bit big, but it will have to do." The scout smiled at her. "Go behind that big tree over there and change. Bring me your wet clothes so I can dry them by the fire," he said with his hands placed hold of her waist.

"I will selchie man." She smiled as she and Cu made their way to the large oak that stood near edge of the woods.

"Selchie man?" Lancelot asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yes, now leave it," he grumbled as the usual stoic expression crossed his face. They had seen too much emotion from him this day and he desired to share no more.

Shortly Rowan came skipping toward the group of men straight to Tristan. She looked up at him handing her clothes to him with extended arms. Her smile was one that could melt any cold heart. The group of knight's soon all were under her spell.

"Come here Rowan," said Bors gruffly.

She looked at Tristan for reassurance. He smiled, rubbed her hair and motioned his head for her to go.

"Let me tie this around you girl," he stated as he took some leather binding and made a belt for her. He smiled at her. "There that should do you."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

Darkness was soon upon them. They feasted on wild rabbit and mushrooms.

"Come eat something Rowan," Tristan called to her.

The girl slid into the scouts lap and settled in. His eyes scanned around the fire pit. He bit his lower lip as he gazed into the smirking smiles of his comrades.

"Tristan," she said softly as she placed bits of rabbit meat in her mouth.

"Yes, Rowan," he replied still casting glances toward the others.

There was a long pause.

"Yes," he said titling his head back so he could look upon her face, his eyebrow cocked.

"I ran away from màthair," she said pensively as her head dropped down.

"Yes, I know," he replied taking a bit of meat. "She is at the Wall….waiting for you."

Her head shot up to catch him in a wide eyed, startled gaze.

A smirk slid across his lips as his right eyebrow cocked. She took a large gulp as she swallowed her food.

"Is…. Is …she cross with me?" She meekly asked.

"Yes, she is," Tristan said moving his forehead so it rested upon hers.

Rowan's mouth twitched from side to side as she took a deep breath.

"But, she is more worried and frightened than she is cross," he added.

She smiled, her fingers playing with the whiskers of his chin hair.

"I shall have a punishment shall I not?" She inquired.

"Yes, I believe you shall," he said sternly. "And you shall take whatever punishment your mother extends to you." He pulled her chin up with the crook of his finger.

There was a quiet hush fell over the camp. The other knights glanced at one another in amazement. Here was their scout, known and feared by so many playing a father to a child. They looked at one another as they ate.

After a few moments of silence Rowan spoke.

"Do you think it will be bad?" She looked at him. "My punishment that is."

"Probably." The scout said with little emotion.

* * *

><p>The men sat around the fire for some time just listening to Rowan retell the tale of how she found Tristan and his stay with her and her mother. He would never live the tale of being afraid of his own hawk for all the rest of his days. He cringed as rolling waves of laughter filled the night air. No he would most defiantly never live it down.<p>

"It's time for bed little one." He smiled. "Come on."

"We should all find our beds. We rise at first light," Arthur commanded.

The group settled in for the night. Their bedrolls were placed far enough apart to give them privacy yet close to hear each other. Tristan made a bedroll for Rowan close to him. They all settled in and silence fell upon the group. Just as they were about to find sleep…..

"Tristan," Rowan said in a whisper.

"Yes Rowan," he replied, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he lay on his side.

"Is it far to the Wall?" She asked.

"No, only day's ride from here." He said.

After a few moments of quiet, she spoke again.

"Tristan," the child whispered again.

"Yes, Rowan." The scout said with a smile. He had missed her relentless on slot of questions.

"Are there ponies at the wall?" She asked picking her head up slightly.

"No, Rowan, there are no ponies like Coll at the Wall." He chuckled.

The other knights adjusted themselves in there bedrolls, smiling to themselves at the wonderment of this small girl.

Again there was a brief spurt of silence before they heard her voice once again.

"Tristan," Rowan said.

"Yes Rowan," he stated with a chuckle, lifting his head up and to toward his back.

"Are there any children like me at the wall?" She asked.

"Yes, Rowan there are children at the wall." The scout said with a smile.

"Are there little girls like me? Will I be permitted to play with them?" She asked with great excitement in her voice.

Tristan turned on his back, lifted his head and smiled at her. Low rolling chuckles could be heard imitating throughout the camp.

"Rowan, yes there are girls, but none like you child." He laughed as he noted her smile. "And yes you will be permitted to play with the children at the fort. Now will you _please_ go to sleep child." He stated sternly.

_At last peace and quiet. _He thought as he lay his head back down and turned on his right side.

"Tristan," she whispered.

"What is it child," he said.

There was a pause.

"Rest well, I love you." She whispered.

At that statement all the knights lifted their heads from their resting spots. It was as though a deathly hush fell throughout the woods. Every creature in the woodland, it seemed, paused to hear his response.

"I love you too Rowan. Now find sleep child." The scout said as he closed his eyes and smiled.

**To be continued….**


	16. Bringing Rowan Home

**Disclaimer: The usual…. It makes me mad that I own them not but alas I do not.. I own my OC and none other…. Touchstone pictures…**

**A special thanks to brandibuckeye~~you are so wonderful, Jen thanks for the wonderful reviews, Azure83 You are rock, alien.94 thanks so much, kris89 GREAT to hear from you again glad you like the story, xXRoweenaJAugustineXx I am glad you almost melted (success ), Onix thank you… and to all those who sent emails, read and viewed this story! You are the reason we write!**

**As always a very special tahnk you to Katie! you are the best...**

**ENJOY~~~~~**

**Chapter 16: Bringing Rowan Home:**

"Woman, you cannot be here on the ramparts," the centurion snarled.

Fiona's head snapped in his direction casting him an evil glare of dissention.

"She can be where ever she chooses to be in this fort," Dag's voice stated, deep and stern.

The knight startled the centurion, who snapped to attention.

"But sir, only centurions and knights are permitted up here," he replied.

"Perhaps I did not make myself clear," Dagonet answered, bumping into his arm as he passed by. "She is the scout's woman; she will go where she chooses." He snarled. "Or perhaps you would like to explain to the scout your foolish decision." He bit his lower lip and cocked both his eyebrows at the man.

"No sir….no I would not," he said looking at the woman as he bowed his head slightly. "My pardon my lady, I did not know who you were."

"Well, then… we shall not speak of it again," she said with a zestful tone.

"Thank you," he said as he turned to leave.

Dagonet let out a loud roar of laughter.

"You will fit in well here Fiona," the giant of a man smiled at her.

"For the last time Dag," she began. "I am NOT Tristan's woman."

He laughed.

"You know Fiona," he continued. "There are many benefits to being Tristan's woman, protection and safety being some of them. People fear him. His very name makes people shake in their boots," he whispered in her ear as he stood behind her, his hands braced on her shoulders.

"So it would appear," she said looking out over the night into the darkness.

"He will bring her home safely," Dag said softly.

"He is only a man," she whispered. "I cannot put that sort of pressure on his shoulders."

Again Dag laughed.

"Tristan is more than just a man, he is half animal," he said moving to lean over the rampart. "He is no_ ordinary _man."

Fiona laughed as she cast her eyes downward.

"You sound like Rowan," she said looking up at the large knight. "She believes Tristan to be a selchie man."

He cast a questioning look toward her.

"The selchie folk," she asked "Have you never heard of the tales?"

"No," he answered, his brows knitted.

"I shall tell you the tales of my homeland. Far north of _Woad_ country," she chuckled.

Fiona told Dagonet the folklore of the selchie.

"She thinks him a selchie man does she?" He laughed. "Yes, I can see that."

The pair looked at one another for a few moments. Dagonet smiled at her. She liked him. He was kind. Yes, a friendship had developed between them.

Suddenly his head jerked to the left, his head titled.

"What is it?" She asked as she placed her hand upon his forearm.

"Shhhhh," he said, listening intently. "Horses, I hear riders coming," he said as his eyes opened. "They have returned." He smiled as Fiona leapt into his arms hugging his neck and kissing his cheek.

"Rowan," she whispered beneath her breath as her eyes closed.

She leaned over the ramparts desperately listening into the wind.

"Riders approaching," came the loud cry carried from centurions stationed several torrents up from the pair.

"Tristan," she said aloud.

Fiona looked up at Dag as she suddenly realized she had spoken his name out loud.

Soon the horse's hooves gained intensity as they neared the gates. The rumbling earth shaking sound that accompanies a band of horses. The sound usually had her heart racing with fear, as it always meant that Sèitheach was approaching and with him agony and pain. But not this time, no this time her heart raced with excitement for Tristan was among them, Tristan and Rowan.

"Open the gates," she heard voices shout.

She caught a glimpse of the horses as they neared the gates. The lanterns illuminated the figures.

_Riders, six of them, _she thought as her eyes glistened with tears. She saw the pony trotting behind Galahad's horse. _And Coll! _She thought with excitement.

"It is Coll Dag," she cried out loud. "Rowan's pony, they have found her!"

Then she heard Cu barking as he ran near the horses. Fiona held her breath.

"Cu," she whispered with a smile.

"Come Fiona," Dag said as he gently took her by the elbow.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She hurried down the long narrow steps that lead up to the ramparts, her dress hems gathered in her hand so that she would not trip. Dagonet was not far behind her. Quickly they made their way to the inner gates near the stables. This was the place where the knights dismounted and their pages took care of the horses.

She ran, her heart beating faster than it ever had.

_Please let her be alright,_ she prayed to the gods.

As she passed through the gates a centurion tried to stop her. He was grabbed by the back of the neck by Dagonet who merely shook his head. The man let her loose.

She stopped as her eyes fell upon Tristan. She did not breathe; there was no sign of Rowan. Tears filled her eyes, she grasped at her bodice, her heart. Pain welled within her chest as she looked into the scout's emotionless gaze. Slowly he opened his cloak to reveal a small sleeping figure protected within his arms.

She gasped for air, almost falling as her knees gave way but was caught by the healer's strong arms.

"See, she is fine Fiona," he said softly as he braced her.

Tristan smiled as he woke the child.

"Rowan," he whispered as he gently shook her. "Rowan, wake and see who awaits you."

The child woke with a stretch and a yawn. She looked up at Tristan who motioned with a smile for her to look in the other direction. As she cast her head towards her mother she smiled, then bowed her head and frowned. She knew she would be in trouble for running away as she did and was not looking forward to the punishment she was about to receive. Looking back up to the scout she stared into his eyes.

"Remember girl, you will take whatever punishment your mother deems fit for you," he said sternly. "Now go comfort your mother."

The scout took the child and lowered her down. Fiona ran toward her daughter, tears streaming down her face. She knelt in front of her. Tristan dismounted standing behind Rowan as her mother took her in her arms. Her grip was a death hold, never had she held her child so tightly. Her face buried in the crook of Rowan's neck, Fiona wept deep heavy sobs.

"Màthair," she said hugging her around the neck. "Do not weep, I am safe. Tristan saved me." She said.

Fiona pulled back, grabbing her child's arms. Her expression changed.

"Do not _EVER_, do you hear me _EVER_ do that to me again. _AM I PERFECTLY CLEAR_?" Fiona shouted as she shook Rowan sternly.

Rowan shook her head as tears filled her eyes. Fiona pulled her close and hugged her again. Releasing her again she once again shook her.

"Never, ever," she yelled heartbroken. "I thought the life was taken from me forever. Did you not think of what might have happened if Tristan had not found you! What were you thinking girl?" She pulled her close again, crying.

Rowan looked up toward Tristan who cocked his eyebrow at the young girl, motioning her to hug her mother.

"I love you so much Rowan," she whispered. "I would die a thousand deaths if you were ever harmed. Please never frighten me like this again, please."

"I am sorry màthair," Rowan said as she hugged her mother. "I only wanted Tristan to come back to us."

"I should give you such a thrashing child!" She stated looking upon her daughter's tear stained face. "But I am so thankful to the gods that they kept you safe th-" She began.

"So I am not to get a thrashing?" Rowan said with a smile.

"At this moment," Fiona said looking at her daughter's beautiful face. "No." She hugged her daughter who cast her eyes to the scout and smiled at him. Tristan merely cocked his eyebrow and rubbed her head with his hand.

Fiona scooped her daughter in her arms and stood. She looked at Tristan and smiled.

"Thank you Tristan," she whispered as she felt his hand rub her arm. "How can I ever repay you?"

He smiled releasing a low chuckle.

"It was my duty," he said as he headed toward the gates, his arm securely around Fiona's shoulder. "Here let me take the child, she is heavy for you," he said taking Rowan from her mother. "We should get some food, she is hungry."

The trio made their way to the tavern. The other knights who had been silently watching the three interact with one another followed closely behind. Amazed at their scout, this man they had known for so many years. They marveled in wonder at his demeanor with this woman and child. They chuckled as they listened to Rowan chatting the entire way of the great adventure she had.

"And màthair," she said with great excitement as they entered the tavern. "Tristan said there are children here at the fort. And he said I shall be permitted to play with them." She smiled brightly. "Is that not lovely màthair?"

"Aye Rowan," her mother said smiling as her arm snaked around Tristan's waist, while her free hand caressed her daughter's leg. "Aye, that is lovely indeed." Fiona gazed up into Tristan face. He smiled at her as his arm squeezed her tightly.

Tristan guided them to his usual secluded spot in the far corner. All eyes watched them in disbelief as the scout sheltered his women from the tongue waggers and prying eyes of the crowd.

The knights gathered around the table near them. The serving girls brought wine and food to the group. Rowan continued with her nonstop delightful chatter as Tristan pulled Fiona closer into his hold.

Looking up she caught Dag's smiling expression. His right eyebrow cocked and a wide smirk blessed his mouth.

She smiled as she straightened her body. He laughed. Tristan cast a curious glare the healer's way. Vanora who now sat between Dag and her Bors giggled. She cast a look at Fiona then back at Dag and smiled, amusedly huffing beneath her breath.

"No, she is _not_ his woman," Fiona heard him mumble as he looked at Vanora and raised the cup of wine to his lips.

Fiona rolled her eyes, shook her head and pressed her lips together.

As Fiona sat near Tristan she felt his hand tenderly caress her back. She was nuzzled in his arms. She was safe. Rowan was safe. They would begin a new life at the Wall.

Could she now release all the fear within her?

To be continued…


	17. They Say I Am Your Woman

**Disclaimer: Always and forever I own them not but only in my heart. Touchstones pictures, King Arthur 2004.**

**A specially thanks to: onix, xXRonweenaJAugustineXx, brandibuckeye, and Azure83 for the beautiful reviews! Thank you so much…as always to all those who read, email, view and mark as fav, Thank you.**

**A special thanks to my Beta~~ Katie without whom I would look like a fool… you are amazing and I thank you for all your patience and insight.**

**This chapter is dedicated to all of us who sometimes fear letting go because of the unknown and what it may bring. Fear is a powerful enemy, especially the fear of love, being loved, letting love in and learning to really love unconditionally.**

**THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M FOR VERY MATURE SEXUAL CONTENT~~~~ PLEASE BE ADVIZED.**

* * *

><p><strong>Sarah McLachlan's Fumbling towards Ecstasy is the inspiration for this chapter:<strong>

_All the fear has left me now__I'm not frightened anymore.__It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh__. __It's my mouth that pushes out this breath__and if I shed a tear I won't cage it__I won't fear love__and if I feel a rage I won't deny it__I won't fear love.__  
><em>

_Companion to our demons__they will dance, and we will play__ w__ith chairs, candles, and cloth making darkness in the day__. __It will be easy to look in or out__upstream or down without a thought__  
><em>_and if I shed a tear I won't cage it__, __I won't fear love__and if I feel a rage I won't deny it__, __I won't fear love.__  
><em>

_Peace in the struggle__to find peace__comfort on the way__to comfort__and if I shed a tear I won't cage it__I won't fear love__and if I feel a rage I won't deny it_

* * *

><p><strong>Rowan and Fiona have been at the fort for a few weeks now. Rowan is blissfully adjusting to life at the Wall and all the children is "permitted" to play with. Fiona has found work at a healer and seamstress. She and Rowan live in a small cottage on the edge of the village.<strong>

**Fiona feels safe and protected under the watchful eye of our scout Tristan. She has come to relax knowing that Sèitheach believes she is dead. Tristan and Fiona are slowly developing a relationship. Whispers and tongue wagers have other ideas for the pair.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Rowan is playing with 9 and 7, two of Bors and Vanora's daughters. Fiona has gone into the woods to collect needed herbs and spices for the healing room. <em>**

**Chapter 17: They Say I am your Woman**

**Finding _Peace in the Struggle_: Tristan and Fiona**

"They say I am your woman," she mused quietly, sensing that he was watching her.

She was correct, he had been watching her. He had been _hunting_ her for some time.

"Then _they_ would be right," he exhaled as he stepped from behind the massive oak. "You _are_ my woman," his voice growled softly and with its beautiful rough foreign accent. That voice she had fallen in love with from the first time she heard it.

The scout crouched next to her, his long slender legs parted with her body placed between them without her even knowing. She felt the palm of his hand with his long fingers slide tenderly and slowly up her spine. His fingers twisted strands of her dark locks around them as they journeyed up her back. She smiled as she felt his hand glide upon her, tracing his fingers across her neck. Within a moments time he swooped her hair across her right shoulder, exposing the white sweet flesh of her neck. She knew well what his intentions were. He planned to claim her, leave his mark for all to see.

She stood up, brushing the particles of earth from her hands on her apron. His body instinctively rose with hers, moving in close to consume her. His stealthy hands snaked across her hips to encircle her, pulling her closer to his body.

Her breath slowed, almost coming to a complete stop as she felt his body touch hers.

She had been right. He had come to claim what he desired. The heat from his open mouth sent prickles and shivers up and down her spine. The sensation felt wonderful to her.

She was helpless to do anything, but yield to his will.

_All the fear has left me now I'm not frighten any more_

_It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh; it's my mouth that pushes out this breath._

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><p>She felt the touch from his moist tongue tip scorching her skin as it traveled from the base of her neck to her ear lobe. She leaned into him, weakened at the knees as his lips took her lobe within their grasp. The feel of his warm breath in her ear as his lips gently sucked drove her to near submission. His long slender fingers trailed gracefully to grasp her hips, pulling her deeper into him as he ravished her neck. His teeth gently glazed over her skin until his lips found their next desire; the base of her neck. Her head tilted yielding willfully to his every desire as her left hand snaked upward tangling her fingers in his thick locks.<p>

Slowly he turned her around, his lips never leaving her skin as he tasted every inch of her neck making his way to her chin. Her hands pressed against his chest as he kissed his way intermittently over her face. His lips brushed across her cheeks, allowing just the tip of his tongue to slowly glaze over her skin. Tristan smiled at her body's reaction to his touch, her eyes fluttered in ecstasy as he continued kissing her face. His lips caressed her nose then each eyelid before they passed over her forehead making their way down the other side of her face to begin his ravishing her neck once more.

He would leave his mark. He smiled within as he bit and seductively sucked the base of her neck. Deep moans of passion escaped from her lips as her body went limp within his hold. She _was_ his woman, now and forever.

His hands roamed her back tenderly; skillfully loosening her bodice, freeing her from its constraints. In a moments time he swiftly pulled her bodice over her head, breaking from his prowess on her neck only long enough to bring the material over her head, discarding it to the ground. His hands grabbed the back of her head; fingers tangled themselves within her silky dark hair. Their passion ignited into an inferno within each kiss.

_Peace in the struggle to find peace;_

_Comfort all the way to comfort._

_And if I shed a tear I won't cage, I won't fear love_

_And if I feel a rage I won't deny it, I won't fear love_

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><p>As her mouth kissed his neck, she let her hands slowly make their way to his belt. Swiftly she unfastened it and it fell to the ground. With the grace and swiftness of the night she removed his tunic from his shoulders; moaning as it tumbled down the length of his slender body to land on the grass beneath them.<p>

He chuckled as a smile crossed his mouth. She bit his lower lip as punishment for laughing. He moaned. She growled.

Fiona wasted no time pulling his shirt loose from his breeches. Her hands snaked up his warm bare torso, taking the shirt along with them. Before he was even aware she had pulled the shirt up over his head, freeing his arms from their sleeves. It clung to the tree bark where she had tossed it. His hands firm on her hips, he pulled her close again. With one eye opened he caught sight of his shirt clinging to the tree bark. The scout was unable to help himself as let out another laugh. Fiona pulled her head back looking deeply into his eyes with a cock of her eyebrow.

Her seduction of his neck followed suit. His hands slid to cover her bottom firmly as his head tilted back giving in willingly to her demand of him. He pulled her close so that she would feel him firm against her. He moaned loudly as she ravished his neck, leaving her own markings for all to see that _he _was hers, and no others.

"Fiona," he moaned aloud.

His hands quickly slid up her back to her neckline, where they proceeded to roughly remove her dress, exposing the white soft flesh of her shoulders. She never lost her momentum in claiming the heat of his flesh within her mouth. He growled loudly as she sunk her teeth into his flesh, sucking, tenderly ripping, and bruising it.

Tristan grabbed the nape of her neck with his left hand, pulled her hair so her head was back. He looked hungrily into her eyes before lowering his head to cover her mouth with his own. Together the pair quickly pulled the rest of her dress off her body, allowing it to flutter to the ground gracefully and he took her in his arms. His calloused palms moved freely against every part of her naked flesh. Her arms snaked around to his back. Her nails raked his scar laden skin.

He desperately hungered for her, the whole of her.

He pulled back. His gaze into her eyes was wild pure animalistic hunger.

"Godsdamn woman, release me," he begged, roaring from deep within the cavity of his chest. His open mouth grazed hungrily up and down her neck.

His command was all she needed. She yielded. His eyes closed as he felt her hands cross around to his chest, pinching his nipples and he bit her neck sensually. With just her fingertips she caressed down the front of his chest to his waistband. Teasingly she trailed his breeches, slowly slipping her fingers in ever slightly. She heard him growling at her touch. She released a playful chuckle. His hands snaked to the back of her neck and tangled his fingers in her hair. His mouth slowly made its way to find hers. His kiss was passionate, wanting, and longing with desire.

"Release me woman," he groaned, his free hand taking hers he pressed them against his firm length, bulging from beneath his leathers. "Release me."

Fiona pressed her lips against his collar bone as her hands unlaced his fastenings, freeing him from the pressure. She gently kissed down his chest. Her hands, palms open, slid within his breeches, sliding them around his hips to his bottom. Slowly she pushed his leathers down around his hips, cupping his firm bottom as she pushed them farther off his body.

Her open, warm mouth trailed the length of his body as she knelt down before him. His hands tangled within the strands of her beautiful hair, his head tilted back, the sensation his body felt had overtaken all his senses.

Her lips teasing his navel seductively, his grip intensified his breeches now down past his knees. She removed her hands to help him discard his boots and free his legs from his leathers.

"Oh Fiona," he growled huskily.

Her hands tenderly caressed the back of his legs; her mouth nipped his left hip leaving a mark of possession. The silky, warm smooth skin of his manhood caressed against her right cheek. Slowly her lips kissed their way to meet it. Her left hand touched the back of his leg slowly and seductively her right hand made its way to the hold him firmly.

Taking hold of him she began to tentatively stroke his need, she heard him groan, his breath deep with spurting pants. Tristan's entire being tensed as he felt the heat of her mouth take him in. His hands once again tangled in her hair. Triastan slowly assisted Fiona with each gliding stroke her mouth made, taking him deeper and deeper each time.

"By all the gods' woman," he whispered shallowly. "By all the gods."

He gasped for breath as he heard her moan in her own pleasure. Quickly he pulled her head back as he simultaneously backed his hips away from her beautiful mouth. She reluctantly yielded, still gingerly stroking him.

"Woman," he gasped his throat dried and desperate for moisture.

Slowly he knelt in front of her. Her hands caressed his beautifully lean muscular figure. His mouth ravished hers in wanton lust. In one swift movement Tristan had Fiona laid on the lush grass of the forest floor. His body hovered over her, his weight braced by the strength of his extended arms on either side of her head. Her legs wrapped around the back of his legs, locking her heels just beneath his bottom, pulling him closer.

"I love you," he whispered breathlessly as he bent to kiss her.

"I love you Tristan," she returned as she leaned up to meet his kiss. Her hands moved up and down his sides to his hips then slowly back up again.

"I want you," he whispered between kisses.

"Then claim what is yours my lord," her voice as soft as a breeze.

He looked deep within her dark eyes and smiled. Biting his lower lip he tenderly slid deep within her. Her hands gripped his shoulder blades as she felt him enter. Fiona's eyes fluttered the deeper within her he pushed. His head titled back the stronger he claimed her. She was burning hot and wet as his pelvis finally messed against hers.

He froze deep within her, unable to move for fear of releasing too quickly. He groaned loudly as she pulsated around him. It was nearly more than he could stand.

"Woman," he roared as loud as he could his body arched, head back as far as it could stretch.

He began to move his hips back and forth, hers meeting him thrust for thrust. Their bodies quaked and glistened with perspiration. She leaned up to hold his upper body, his right hand slid beneath her, holding her close to him as he thrust. She moaned and twisted beneath him. He growled as his teeth gritted tightly together.

"Tristan," she panted deeply.

His breath quickened and she knew he was not long from finding his release. His body tensed, she could feel his was near.

Without warning he changed positions, gracefully rolling their bodies in unison until she was on top. Her thighs pressed against his, her knees securely braced on either side of his hips. Tristan grabbed hold of her hips, guiding her up and down, slamming her hard against his pelvis.

His head arched back, he let out a low husky rumbling groan, the veins in his neck bulging as he found release deep within her. She was not long behind him, her body quivered and trembled. She fell upon him, his arms wrapped around her as he held her. Fiona's face buried deep within the crook of his neck. Both their breath's slowing to a smooth relaxed pace.

Shortly she slipped off him into the comfort and protection of his arms, their legs intertwined.

Neither of them spoke but merely caressed one another tenderly. Their touch spoke all the words they needed.

**The both of them finding peace in the struggle.**

**To be continued...**


	18. REVISED  Belonging to us

**Disclaimer: The usual...**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THIS IS THE REVISED CAHPTER~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**Thanks ever so much to Jen, xXRoweenaJAugustineX x and brandibuckeye for your reviews... I am glad you liked the chapter. Also thanks to all the those read it and marked it as favs. You are all so awesome.**

**A special thanks to Katie for all your hard work in keeping me straight and for all the support and advice plus your amazing way to look at things! You are the bestest ever!**

**Well sadly this storyline is drawing to an end. There is only two more chapters left plus an epilogue. **

**I just wanted to extend my heart to all those who have been reading it and say thanks you for all the support. This has most definitely been a darker story than my others and I feel it has pushed me as a writer. Thank you for your support and patience.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 18: Belonging to Us ~ Ours<strong>

They were huddled in the corner of her bedroom. The only light came from the glow of two large candles near the bed. He stood over her. His hands tenderly scooped her long dark hair into one single strand, holding it behind her neck until he could securely tie a leather strapping around it. His right arm then gently snaked around her midsection while his other hand braced her forehead with a damp rag. Her body was bent in half, she convulsed as she heaved up the only thing left in her stomach; acidic bile. She was hunkered over vomiting, again. She tried desperately to push him away, but he would not have it. He held her, bracing her. Although she did not want to admit it she was thankful for the comfort he provided her. He began to wonder how anyone could continue to project this much fluid from their body. He had been drunk enough times and paid the price the next morning for sure, but nothing matched this.

When he was certain she was done he took the cloth and wiped it carefully across her mouth, she leaned her naked body into him as he took hold of her.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "You should not have to help me."

"Do not say you are sorry to me woman," he whispered as he scooped his arm under her legs and hoisted her into his arms. "After everything you did for me as I lie dying on your floor."

She was light as a feather in his arms. He carried Fiona to the bed. Yes, their bed. He considered it as such since he had for all intense purposes been living in the cottage with her and Rowan this past month. Most of his personal belongings may still be in his quarters at the keep, but he was there with them. He would go daily and get what he needed for the next day. He would not give up his quarters; he had been there far too long, twelve years now, nearing thirteen to be exact. More than that he still had the need to feel he was free.

He laughed. Free.

Once back at their bed he helped her stand so that she might sit on the beds edge until she felt well enough to lie back down. Tristan knelt down in front of her rubbing the back of her calves.

She laid her head against his shoulder, her arms draped around his neck. She was weak from her inability to keep anything down for very long. She crawled back into bed, laying her head on the pillow. Her hand immediately began to rub her belly in hopes to sooth her sour stomach. Tristan slid in under the covers and cradled her.

"I want you to see Dag first thing in the morrow Fiona," he said as he kissed the back of her hair as his body instinctively curved behind hers. "Promise me," he whispered.

He heard her chuckle sarcastically.

"Woman," he firmly stated. "It is my will."

"There is nothing that Dag can do for me and nothing he can tell me I do not already know Tristan," she answered.

"Stubborn woman," he growled under his breath as his hand brushed the hair from her face so that he might place a kiss on her cheek.

"Tristan, I would like some water if you do not mind," she requested of him.

The scout dutifully removed himself from their bed, pulled his breeches on and made his way across the room and quietly opened the door. He walked to the pantry area reached in the cupboard took out a cup then poured water from the pitcher that sat on the counter top.

Before returning to Fiona he looked in on Rowan. As the door creaked open he popped his head around. He smiled as his eyes fell upon her small body; her feet dangled half off the bed. He entered the room, carefully placed her back in the middle of the bed, covered her up and brushed her hair from her face. She stirred, softly moaning as she curled her body. She had the look of her mother about her.

_And her spirit too _he laughed to himself. He wondered what her father was like. What had happened to him? What had made him leave Fiona and Rowan? His thoughts were shaken by Rowan's voice calling his name.

"Tristan," she mumbled her eyes struggling to open.

"Sleep child," he whispered as he placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

Grasping the cup from the small night table next to Rowan's bed he returned to Fiona who was now sitting up in the bed. He handed her cup, stroking her hair after she took the cup from him. He removed his breeches and sat on top of the covers facing her, his right leg bent on the bed while the other remained on the floor. After a few moments she finished her drink, Tristan took the cup from her hand and placed it on their nightstand. He lay on his right side in front of her and tenderly stroked her knee cap with his nose. Her fingers caressed his dark locks as he stroked her leg with his hand.

There was a long period of silence between them. Tristan sensed that there was something on her mind and knew her well enough to know that she would keep it held within her.

"Fiona," he began. "Tell me what troubles you love," he continued. "Do you fear for your safety? You know I will never let anymore harm come your way. I will guard you with my own life," he said looking up at her. "You believe this Fiona do you not?"

Her face was bent down near to her chest, her long black hair cascading down around her. She did not speak for a few minutes. She tried to muster the strength to tell him. She would have to. The time was running out, she would be unable to keep this a secret for much longer.

"I am with child," she stated calmly looking down into her lap. "Near three month now."

He stopped. The words she just spoke to him echoed in his ear over and over. A huge smile slowly filtered across his face as his nose pressed into leg and his lips kissed her. She could feel his smile, and her heart panged. Slowly he raised his body so that he was sitting up, his right leg once again bent and the other braced on the floor. He leaned his head against hers as his hands caressed her legs slowly making their way to press gently against her belly. Fiona placed her hands on top of his. He felt the warmth of tear drops fall on his forearm.

"I feel these are not tears of joy that fall against my skin," he said sliding his head so that he forehead braced her shoulder. His arm encircled her pulling her into his lap. He cradled her, feeling more tears fall upon his chest.

"Fiona," he whispered. "Look at me."

She shook her head unable to answer him.

"Are you not happy to carry my child within you," he asked, his heart racing within his chest as he became terrified of the answer.

He had never thought of having a child with a woman here in Britain, never allowed his heart to be given to any female in this place. Not until her. He had given his heart, his mind, his very soul to this woman. Did she weep because his seed grew within her?

Fiona curled so tightly in his lap it was difficult to tell where she ended and he began. He felt her body trembling with fear.

"Fiona answer me please," he demanded.

His arms wrapped around her body, there was nothing but the silent pounding of his heart echoing in his ear.

"I do not know who the father of this child is Tristan," her arms snaked around his upper torso, gripping him so hard for fear he would let her go.

Her face pressed against his body as the tears from her eyes moistened his skin.

As the thought of Sèitheach filled the cavity of his chest the very bowls of his stomach churned with hatered and thoughts of revenge for what he had done. His mind carried itself back to that day. That day as he sat in the grain storage beneath her cottage holding Rowan tightly so she might not hear what pain her mother endured. The pain of that day, the pain of his feeling helpless to stop Sèitheach ground at his soul. He hadn't thought of the possibility that the child might be his.

"Mine," he said adamantly. "The child within you is mine woman."

"I do not know," her voice quaked with fear.

"He is not the father of your child, do you hear me woman," he growled, his voice dark and loathing. He could taste the bitterness that dwelt in his body.

Tristan pulled back from her hold, lifted her chin with the crook of his index finger.

"Mine," he whispered and he placed a kiss upon her lips. "Ours," he said quietly as he placed his hand down on her belly and pulled her close to him.

Tenderly Tristan laid her down on the fur coverings that adorned their bed, his hand beneath her head as it gently hit the pillow. The scout placed his head on her breasts, gazed into her eyes while she stroked his locks. Slowly his fingers trailed from behind her head down her neck and across her shoulders.

"Why are you so good to us," she inquired in a solace tone as her finger tips traced his lips.

He smiled, rolled over on his stomach and scooted down toward her belly. His braids tickled as they glazed over her skin, his lips barely touching her. Fiona felt his fingers trace the side of her body in circular patterns.

"You are a witch remember," he answered after a brief moment with a smirk on his face. "You have bewitched me completely. I am but yours to command," he kissed where his child grew in peace and safety.

She felt his warm lips touch the skin of her belly. Her fingers tangled firmly in his hair. She thought back to the day he first woke, how his hand grabbed her throat tightly. He was not the same man as he was now. She closed her eyes and prayed to the gods that this child growing within her was truly his.

"Ours," he whispered again.

She opened her eyes to find that he was but a breath's air away from her, hovered on top, their noses touching.

_How could he move so stealthy _she chuckled to herself as she looked into his beautiful dark amber colored eyes?

He was smiling again. She liked the way he looked when he smiled; it changed his whole demeanor and appearance. It softened him. He truly was a beautiful man with regal features of nobility. A smile crossed her face for the first time in days since she discovered she was with child. Her hand caressed his facial features tenderly lingering on his tattoos, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. He loved the feel of her touch on his skin. It soothed him deep inside.

"This child _**is**_ ours Fiona," he repeated.

"But what if it i-," she began.

"There is no what if woman," he sternly said. "This child belongs to you and I and no other. You will not think of him ever again. Am I to be understood?" he was cross. "Never again, Fiona."

"Ours," she whispered as her hands cupped his beautiful face and he bent to kiss her.

"Ours," he smiled.

He moved to her side, taking her in his arms as they kissed. She held within her his seed, his child, and their future. He was over joyed. More so than he ever thought he would be. A child; their child. His thoughts rambled in so many directions the more he thought of his new situation. Thoughts filled his mind of his returning to Sarmatia with a family. Yes, they would return to his home, leaving behind all the bad memories that burned in his soul. He would raise his family there, high in the mountains. He would return home with them.

"You are far away in your thoughts my lord," she whispered as her nose brushed gently across his cheek. "And you bare a beautiful contented smile upon your lips. You are truly happy about the news then?"

"Yes," he said surprisingly as gently stroked his fingers the length of her arm, kissing her shoulder. "I am happy of this news," he said before looking in her eyes. "And what of you Fiona, are you happy of this news."

"I am now Tristan," she said. "Tell me what you were thinking of a moment ago."

He laughed.

"Women, you always want to know a man's thoughts." He chuckled as he laid on his back, pulling his woman into his arms.

She was snuggled in the crook of his arms. After a few moments Tristan began to tell her of what he had been thinking, his plans for their future far from here. He hadn't thought that she would object to leaving Britain and was happy when she confirmed so to him during their conversation. They talked about their future once his tour of duty was over. They talked well into the night and while the sun rose.

They spoke of Rowan and how happy she would be to be gaining a baby to play with.

"I wager that the entire fort will know of our news before the sun is high in the sky," he laughed.

"I match that wager and say before morn is half over," Fiona said.

"I think you are right," he laughed as he pulled her on top of him.

**To be continued…**


	19. Good News Travels Fast Part One

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but mine….**

**As always thank you for the reviews: Jen you are awesome for your sweet words, xXRoweenajAugstineXx ( I agree he is an amazing man) , brandibuckeye ( I know I am sad too that this is ending) thanks for all your support and Druid Archer we shall have to wait and see..**

**Katie you are the best ever.. Thank you.**

**Gaelic translations:**

**Ag iompar clainne- pregnant**

**Tha mi- I am**

**Barin- baby**

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><p><strong>Chapter 19: Good News Travels Fast Part 1<strong>

Her head slowly rose from her bowl, eyes wide as they possibly could open, spoon still in her mouth and her cheeks puffed full of cooked oats. Her legs kicking and swing in excitement under the chair.

"A wee bairn of our own?" she gleefully shouted at Tristan as cooked oats dribbled down the sides of her mouth. Her hair still tufted from her night's sleep.

The scout laughed, reached over and wiped her mouth.

"Yes, Rowan, a baby of our own," he smiled at Fiona who stood only a few paces from him.

Her head turned in Fiona's direction. "Ag iompar clainne, màthair?"

"Tha mi Aye Rowan tha mi," she smiled brightly rubbing her belly as Tristan pulled her into his lap, placing his hands on top of hers, his chin resting on her right shoulder.

"You know you will both have to learn Sarmatian if I am to learn yours, "he stated firmly.

Rowan roared with laughter, her head tilted back as far as she could bend it and her mouth still full of oat meal.

"Manners Rowan, honestly," her mother scolded.

Tristan smiled then winked at her and held Fiona tighter.

Shoveling more food in her mouth she asked, "Is it a boy or a girl barin?"

"We will not know till it comes," Fiona said.

"Girl," he said lifting his mug to his mouth. "It is to be a girl," he snorted before taking a drink.

"I cannot wait to tell 7 and 9, they will be so excited," she said.

Rowan cherished living at the fort with all the other children. She had become good friends with Bors and Vanora's girls 7 and 9 who were roughly the same age as she was. Vanora of course did not mind that they were friends as that meant two less children she had to keep up after.

Rowan sat straight up in the chair as a thought popped into her mind.

"Shall we call the barin… 5," she inquired.

"Certainly not," Fiona stated firmly. "No child of mine will have a number for its name, the very thought of it, honestly!"

Tristan laughed out loud, his legs slightly rocking Fiona back and forth.

"I don't know….. I was thinking perhaps 30 would be a good strong name for the child…..do you not think so Rowan," he said with a smirk and half grin to Rowan (who placed her forehead on the table and giggled hard). His tongue grazed back and forth slowly over his top teeth in an attempt to hide his smirk.

"Tristan," Fiona shouted, she stood up and made her way to the counter to fetch a cup and some water.

"What, woman," he chuckled failing in his attempt to appear stern. "It is a good strong number, yes 30…. that will be a good name for the child." He turned his face to look over his shoulder as he chuckled. Suddenly feeling a piece of bread hit the back of his head.

With her arm extended on the table Rowan placed her head upon it and laughed.

Standing up the scout grabbed a bit of bread and cheese from the plate on the table, popped it in his mouth and brushed his hands of the crumbs.

"You certainly are not setting a good example for our children woman, throwing food about like that," he said as he walked past her, his hand smacking her bottom playfully as he headed for the door. "You coming along Rowan?"

The child jumped from her chair shoving bits of bread and cheese in her mouth like Tristan had just done and ran past her mother.

"Where do you think you are going?" her mother said grabbing her arm to stop Rowan from jumping out the door.

"With Tristan to the fort," she said matter of factually. "He said I could go on patrol with him and Galahad promised he would teach me to sword fight this day as well!"

Tristan laughed robustly.

"The whelp teaching you, now that will be a sight," he chuckled, suddenly taking heed of Fiona's hands on her hips, cocked eyebrow and sharp look pointed in his very direction.

"What?" he said innocently enough as he took his sheath and strapped it on his back.

"You shall go nowhere looking like a ragged street urchin Rowan, your hair is mess go take a brush to it, now," she said pointing to Rowan's bedroom.

"But màthair," she complained stomping her foot heavily on the wooden floor. "I want to look like Tristan. He said I could have braiding in it like his as well." Her shoulders slumped over and her face contorted into a scowl.

Fiona turned in his direction, her hands firmly pressed on her hips. She let out a deep breath of exasperation.

"What," he quickly said innocently shrugging his shoulders as the right side corner of his mouth tipped up, released a chuckle then quickly meshed his lips together to hide his laughter.

Fiona glared at him with a look that let him know he had better take charge of this situation or he would have a wooden object cast his way very shortly.

"Rowan, do as your mother says quickly," he laughed. "Be quick girl before she hits me with something harder than a bit of bread."

Rowan ran off giggling.

"You are turning her into a wild beastie Tristan," she laughed as he came up behind her encircling her with his arms, his lips kissing her neck.

"Feeling better love," he asked softly between kisses.

"For the moment," she said yielding to the will of his mouth.

"I love you," he whispered in his native tongue.

"What does that mean," she inquired.

Learn Sarmatian woman," he chuckled as he felt Rowan grab hold of his left leg.

"I am ready Tristan," she said smiling up at him.

"Much better," Fiona said looked into her daughter's eyes with a smile. "You look like a young lady."

Rowan's nose crinkled in distaste of her mother's comment.

Tristan kissed Fiona once more on her neck and repeated what he had said. His hand taking hers as he went until only their fingertips touched.

"What does it mean Tristan," she asked again with great curiosity.

He simply smiled as he backed out of the door, Rowan holding his hand. No sooner did they exit the door then Rowan popped her head back in and whispered.

"It means 'I love you' in Sarmatian màthair," the child smiled. "He does you know, love us."

Rowan darted off again just as quickly as she had appeared. Fiona laughed.

Fiona smiled, placed her hand on her belly, looked down and smiled.

"Yes," she said to herself out loud. "He does."

**To be continued…..**


	20. Good News Travels Fast Part Two

**Disclaimer: The usual...**

**Thanks to brandibuckeye and xXRoweenJAugstineXx for your reviews... I am gald you like the story. As always htank you to all those who read the story! I appreciate it.**

**Enjoy this chapter, this is the second to last chapter..I know.. I am sad too... **

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><p>ligeann sé a "Let it be"<p>

**Chapter 20: Good News Travels Fast Part 2**

Three months had passed. Three months since Fiona had delivered the news of her impending birth. Her belly protruded with a small bump and there was no denying that she was with child. Her belly perfectly round against her slender figure had many of the women in the fort exasperated with her as she had gained no weight at all. As true as it was expected the news traveled quickly throughout the fort and beyond to the surrounding villages. Often as it happens to go, news, like a wild fire, spreads quickly. And just as Fiona had predicted it was not high noon but well before the midmorning that Rowan outburst in heralding to everyone she had come into contact with on her excursion with Tristan.

The Scout, to everyone's amazement welcomed the thought of becoming a father. He spoke about the coming of the child more than any of his brothers expected. It truly had taken everyone by surprise, but then so did the fact that he had warmed to Rowan so quickly, cared for her as though she was his own seed. It was a quandary to them all especially to his brothers who knew him the best. Oh surly they could see why as Rowan was not like any child they had come to know. She always had a way of making friends and coddling up to people. She was just plain adorable and people liked her. She had a purity and an innocence that shown from within her like a beckon of light in a storm.

She had certainly melted the Scout that everyone agreed upon. He was very protective of her and watched over her just as his hawk did him.

Tristan had moved out of the knight's quarters and into the cottage at the edge of the fort with Fiona and Rowan within weeks of learning she was expecting. He struggled with the idea of giving up his freedom completely, finding the thought of completely yielding to a woman rather distasteful in his mouth. He found that it was not as difficult as he had first fought it so reluctantly. The freedom that he thought he would be giving up was well traded for the feeling of contentment and sense of belonging that came from being with Fiona and Rowan.

xxxxxx

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><p>The Scout was nestled away in an unused portion of the stables. He had commandeered an end stall, made it into a make shift shop and got busy with his project, a cradle. He had learned wood working from his father whose trade it was. He would more than likely do the same when they returned to Sarmatia. Yes, he would load up a wagon and take his woman and children back to his homeland to live out the rest of his days. If he could manage not to get himself killed in the next three years, that is. Three years, his head shook from side to side casting his braided locks to toss to and fro as he let out a billowing rustle from his lips that sounded as though it came from one of the steeds instead of a man. Fifteen years was nearly over, his eyes clenched tightly shut as images raced across his mind. Some happy, mostly though they were not. So many of his comrades fallen, young lives wasted in this godsdamn hell hole for the glory and reign of Rome. So many of his friends who would never see their homeland again, all for nothing, but some bargain that was struck eons ago.<p>

He bent himself back over a cradle with a few chisels and some carving knives. He was carving the cradle, working in secret on it as often as he could muster the time. It was made of beautiful red oak with intricate carvings. Suddenly he heard the sound of a chuckle coming from behind him. He released a heavy sigh.

"What," he said gruffly.

"Nothing," the voice said.

"You find my work humorous do you old friend," he replied as he continued his carving.

"No, just amazed is all," Dag said as he made his way closer to the cradle. "Who knew that you had such a talent, scout?"

"I am sure you have some of your own," he said tilting his head up to look at the large Sarmatian.

"Yes, I suppose we do," Dag knelt down on one knee near the front of the cradle touching it with his finger tips. "Running horses." He smiled as he traced the outline of the images. "Expecting a son then?"

"Not that I want one, but I have the feeling from what Vanora tells Fiona it will be," his voice became low and concerned.

"Tristan," Dag said in a disappointed tone.

"You want a son …. A son to live this life we have had to my friend," he said.

A few moments lapsed before Dagonet answered. He thought about what Tristan had said. His head hung low as his elbow braced against his right knee. He had picked up a bit of hay and fiddled with it between his large fingers. He drew upon the memory, pictured in his mind the moment that Rome came calling for the young men in his village nearly thirteen years prior. The look on his father's face, his mother weeping uncontrollably as they took her son. Yes, he fully understood what Tristan meant and the feelings he had, understood them all too well.

"No, I suppose you are right. But what can you do?" Dagonet said looking up at his friend who was now standing next to him.

"The same thing _our _fathers did," Tristan said softly, stoically looking into Dag's eyes. "Nothing, nothing at all." He said in disgust.

Dagonet stood up, placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed hard.

"Fiona will like it for sure. It is good workmanship my friend," he said as he left the stall.

He grunted. Dag laughed and then left him in peace.

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><p><em>A son <em>he thought to himself as his fingers caressed the carved horses on the side of the cradle and his eyes closed. He would have to ensure that he survived to make it home with his family. He would not leave his woman and children here in this gods forsaken island he hated so much. He would make Fiona his wife upon their return. Marry her in a proper Sarmatian binding ceremony. Yes. But for now, he would teach them the ways of his heritage, his people, and their language.

He chuckled aloud as he continued to carve on the cradle, thinking of Rowan and all the curiosity that child held within her. His brow knitted as he thought of the day when she would come of age. The scout became weighed and measured at the thought of some insolent pup calling on his daughter. The day when suitors would come seeking him out asking permission to court her. His nose crinkled, his lips meshed and his grip tightened on the hilt of his knife. He would kill them.

He loved her. She had wiggled her way deep within the depths of his heart from that first day. He was glad that he had battled the Woads and had fallen off those cliffs that day.

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><p><strong>Later that night:<strong>

He walked slowly back to the cottage from the round table chamber. He strolled back more like it, enjoying the night air. He could hear the sounds of the tarven, the comings and goings of night life at the fort. The moon was full but there was cloud cover, blocking the much needed light for him. But then he was accustomed to seeing well in the night. He stopped, turned and listened. Looking over his shoulder the scout glared into the dark moonlit night. He listened to the music, the laughter and ...noise. He turned his head to the right, in the direction of their cottage, his home, his woman, their family. He smiled. He took two steps before he heard the muffled sounds of unattached, and meaningless release coming from the alley to his right. He had known that sound all too well for far too long. Now, things had changed, and he was glad for it.

A few more paces. Just several more and he would be home. He saw the flickering lights cascading out the windows. As he came to the thereshold he kicked his boots free of as much debris as he could before opening the heavy wooden door. Tristan quietly closed the door behind him as he caught a glimpse of Rowan by the hearth sitting next to her mother. She had in her hand a small widdling knife and a chunk of wood. He smiled. Fiona turned her head to look over her shoulder at her man as he made his way toward them.

"Your super is cold now scout," she mused.

"Woman," he said as he turned around and headed back to the door.

"Just where do you think you are going," she growled as she stood up and hurried in his direction. Rowan jumped up and ran toward Tristan.

"To the tavern," he grumbled with a smirk. "Seems that is the only place a man can get some meal for his belly and ale to quench his thrust around here." He stated with a smirk as Rowan leaped in his arms wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Take me with you," she pleaded.

His arms wrapped tightly around her as he made his way back into the house toward his woman who was busy pouring heaps of deliciously smelling rabbit stew into a bowl. He reached the table pulled out a chair and took a seat all the while Rowan clung to him. She slid into his lap and began asking him all sorts of questions about what he had been doing all day and whether she would be permitted to go on patrol with him in the morning. Her hand wrapped around his longest braid as she held it for all she could. He looked at Fiona and smiled, rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle as his woman kissed the top of his head. All the while Rowan chatted on.

"Rowan," Fiona said. "ligeann sé a, barin." She said as she took Rowan by the arm and removed her from Tristan's lap.

Taking her place in the chair next to the scout Rowan sat on her knees, her forearms braced on the table for support. Tristan lifted his spoon and took a huge helping of the stew. It was warm and enticing the moment it entered his mouth. He could feel his taste buds come alive. He smiled, closed his eyes slightly as the seasoned stew slid down his throat. It was good. She was an excellent cook and he would keep her about if nothing else than this woman could cook up a mean meal. He leaned over and kissed Fiona on the lips, his hand snaked around the back of her neck as he held her near. They smiled as they heard low soft rolling giggles come from Rowan. He leaned back in his chair and took another spoon full of stew. Contentment.

Rowan sat quietly for a few minutes, which only meant she was strategizing before her next borage of questioning came forth. In the lull of quiet Tristan looked at Fiona. His forearms braced on either side of his bowl. He reached over, took her hand and raised it to his mouth. He opened her palm and kissed it. She smiled, placed a hand on her swollen belly.

"Your child moves," she said softly.

Tristan reached his hand, placed it on her belly and smiled. He felt the child kicking and moving. Rowan watched, stretching her head as far across the table as she could. After a few moments Tristan resumed eating his meal. As he lifted his mug of ale to his lips he heard the silence broken, he smiled.

"Tristan," Rowan said.

"Yes Rowan," he said as he felt the ale hit his upper lip. He took a large sip.

"What shall the barin call you?" She asked.

He took another long drink, gulping. It felt good as it slipped down his throat. He placed the cup down on the table. He raised his hand and wiped off the excess ale foam from his whiskers. He looked at Fiona.

"I do not know," he said looking back at the child. "Papa," he said in his native tongue of Sarmatian. "I suppose. That is what I called my father." He said.

She hung her head, her fingers twiddling around one another. Tristan looked at Fiona who merely shrugged. What was on this girls mind?

"Rowan," he said as he lifted her chin with the crook of his index finger. "What troubles you? You do not want the child to call me papa?" He inquired.

Her eyes were big and brown in color; she had the look of a sad dog. Tristan moved his head so it braced against hers.

"Pssst," he said in a whisper. "Tell me."

She looked at him.

"I want to call you papa too," she said so softly that she was barely heard.

He smiled.

"You can," he whispered back at her as he placed a kiss on her forehead. "I _am_ your papa," he said. "Come here," he pulled her into his lap and cradled her. "I am your papa Rowan, I am." He said in his native tongue.

**To be continued….**


	21. All As It Should Be

**Disclaimer: The usual….**

**Thanks ever so much to Azure83, Jen, Brandibuckeye, Kris89 and xXRoweenaJAugustineXx for your wonderful reviews. And as always thanks to those who read and mark this story in their favs! It is much appreciated.**

**This chapter takes place one month after chapter 20. The scout, his woman and child are enjoying a day of rest and time alone.**

**Iwain- (young warrior) he was a knight**

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><p><strong>Chapter 21: All is as it should be<strong>

"Papa," Rowan called out as she ran after the Scout as fast as her young legs could carry her. "Papa, wait for me please."

The girl ran through the open field carrying a leather pouch that was draped across her shoulder. In her hand she carried a bow and strapped to her back was a quiver of arrows. The grass of the field nearly came to her waist it was so high. Tristan stopped, knelt down, and braced his elbows on his knees. He waited for the young girl to catch up to him. His bow in hand and arrows in a quiver strapped to his back, he closed his eyes and listened. When finally she had approached close enough to him he turned his head and motioned for her to be quiet with his outstretched hand. She slowed down, crouching as she neared him. His long index finger pressed firmly against his lips. Rowan quietly made her way to his left side.

"There just to the left of your shoulder," he whispered as he leaned down near her head. Their shaggy braided locks tussled in the breeze. "Close your eyes Rowan, and breathe deep. Smell your prey, feel its presence and know where it is." He continued in his tutoring of the girl's hunting.

She did as she was instructed; clenching her eyes shut as tight as she could, leaned her head back so she might inhale some scent and tilted her head to the side to hear any sound.

He looked down at his daughter and smiled proudly.

"Ready your bow child," he quietly said as he helped the girl who was now braced between his legs. "Steady your aim Rowan." He said firmly. "Remember Rowan, aim for the middle." He continued as he pointed his hand outward toward their prey. "That's a good girl." He encouraged her.

Rowan stretched the bow string back as far as she could. Tristan adjusted her arm to move up and back just a bit.

"Like this papa," she inquired.

"Yes daughter, like that," he said with a smile as he placed his hands on her hips and pivoted her to the left ever slightly. "Easy…..wait till you are sure you have a good line of sight."

"How will I know," she asked.

"Trust your instincts Rowan," he said. "You will know when the time is right."

Tristan slowly stood up standing just behind her then took several paces back. Quietly he reached down and picked up a stone.

"Ready," he asked.

"Yes, papa," she answered her knees began to knock with exceitment.

"On the count of three," he said. "One….two…three." With that he aimed the stone and flung it so it landed several yards away, startling a flock of pheasants into taking flight.

"Wait, until they are in mid air," he said standing behind Rowan. "Now!" He stated.

Rowan moved her bow skyward and closed one eye.

"Aim for the middle….aim for the middle," she repeated quietly to herself as she released the arrow.

The arrow shot clean flying through the air with a whistle and hit its target. Her eyes widen as the fowl fell to the ground.

"I DID IT PAPA…I DID IT," she shouted and danced around the Scout, tapping him with her hand.

"You did! Well done Rowan," he said gleefully as he hoisted the girl into his arms, spinning her round and round. The air filled with her delightful giggles. "You are becoming a fine hunter." He stated proudly.

"Màthair shall be so proud of me will she not papa," she said as her arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing as tightly as she could.

"Indeed she shall," he said wrapping his arms around her. "Now, let us collect your prize."

He placed her down and took her hand within his own. Together they made their way toward the fallen bird.

"Did you see it papa, I shot straight like you told me. I aimed for the middle and it worked! It did papa," the child rambled as her hand squeezed his tightly. "Did you not see it? Just like one of yours. I am as good a bowmen as you papa am I not? I shot it dead from the sky. We shall feast tonight on pheasant. We shall feast like a king and his queens, we shall wont we papa?" Her face beamed with pride.

"We shall, like royalty," he said as he smiled proudly at his daughter. "Like royalty."

"You are a king papa," the young said looking up into his eyes.

"No Rowan I am not, I am but a slave," he said with some bit of sadness. His hand braced on her shoulder he smiled slightly.

"Not in our home you are no slave papa," she said adamantly as she grabbed tightly around his right leg, bracing her face in his waist. She looked up at him again. "You are king in our home, màthair is the queen, I am the princess and Iwain shall be the baby prince."

"He shall, shall he," he chuckled with amazument. "So this is the name you give your baby brother is it Iwain?"

"Aye, Iwain," she said. "He was knight. Dag told me so."

"Yes, he was," Tristan said as he placed his hand on top of her head and stroked her hair putting it in its proper place. "And he was a great knight indeed."

"Dag said that you and he were great friends from the very beginning," she said messing her hair up as her nose crinkled. She did not like her hair all prime and proper to her mother's dismay. She insisted that her be braided in the same spots as Tristan's.

Tristan chuckled as he reached down and lifted the pheasant from the ground. He pulled Rowan's arrow from its dead body. He wiped the arrow on his trouser leg and placed it back into Rowan's quiver. Smiling at the girl he held the fowl out for her to examine.

"Look there, a good clean shot Rowan," he stated proudly. "Well done."

He took the pheasant by the neck in the same hand that he held his bow in he began to walk toward the woods. Rowan ran after him, taking hold of his hand as they continued on their journey.

After a few moments of quiet reflection the Scout spoke.

"We were good friends, Iwain and I," he said quietly. "Good friends indeed. We met on the journey from Sarmatia and made a connection. I would say he was my best friends."

"Is it good than we name the bairn after him," she asked.

Tristan looked to the sky, his lips messed together before releasing a deep sigh.

"Yes, it is a good thing. Thank you Rowan," he said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him.

Rowan took off running toward the stream's edge.

"Màthair…. Màthair….I did it," she shouted joyfully.

When she arrived at the spot where her mother lay basking in the warm sun on a pallet of furs and blankets, her head resting on Tristan's saddle. Rowan leaped in midair and landed just beside her. Fiona smiled as her child embraced her tightly. Rowan sat up so she was braced on her legs, ankles crossed. She took her hand and began rubbing her mother protruding belly. Fiona caressed her arm then attempted to fix her daughter's hair. The girl made a grumbled expression of disapproval and messed her hair back up. Fiona let out a loud laugh just as Tristan appeared. He hoisted the pheasant in the air and smiled, his chest beaming with pride.

"See màthair, _I_ killed that," she said with great excitement. "We shall have a great feast tonight!"

"Rowan, you have done so well," Fiona said proudly. "You did that all by yourself did you?"

"I did," she replied. "Papa told me what to do but I shot it màthair."

"Well done my petal," Fiona said as Rowan kissed her cheek.

Tristan laid his bow and the fowl down on the ground near his saddle. He returned to the pallet and lay down on his side next to his woman. He leaned down placed his hand on her belly and brushed his lips against hers. Fiona stroked his face gently with her finger tips and gazed lovingly into her man's eyes. Tristan braced his head on his palm, his right hand caressing his unborn child and he smiled. The sun shone on him casting hues of auburn highlights in his hair. She gazed at him, at his beauty, at his strength. She smiled.

Peace and joy was theirs.

"You should have seen our daughter," he whispered. "She has become quite the skilled hunter and bowman."

"She takes after her father then," she replied tracing her finger tip over his lips.

"Yes, she does," he responded with a huge smile beaming from his lips. "So will Iwain."

"Iwain," she asked with a quizzical brow.

"Yes, Iwain that is the bairn's name màthair," Rowan giggled as she skipped around the pallet. "I thought of it. He was a knight and papa's very best friend in all the world," she continued, her arms flaying about as though she was flying in the air like a bird. "Is it not a good idea to call the bairn that màthair, do you not agree?"

Fiona looked up at Tristan and smiled. She took his longest braid within her hand and pulled him down for a kiss.

"Aye, Iwain is a lovely fine name for the bairn," she whispered as she released him from her kiss. "A fine name indeed."

Tristan lay on his back, placed his right arm under his head, crossed his legs at the ankles and took Fiona near him with his left arm.

"I am glad you agree my queen," he said with a chuckle.

"Your queen…. am I," she laughed.

"According to our daughter we are royalty," he chuckled.

"Well your majesty this queen needs to make her way back to the castle and prepare the feast," she laughed.

"Your king commands you lay in his arms woman," he growled huskily. "And _MY_ will is law of the land, now rest wench." He groaned as he pulled her closer to him,

"As you command my lord," she chuckled rolling on her side she placed her hand on his chest. She smiled as she lay in the protection and comfort of her man's arms.

Their child moved within her belly and she smiled. The sun shone down on the pair as they lay in each other's arms, she was safe and happy, truly happy for the first time in her life.

All the world was right and as it should be.

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><p>He growled between his teeth. His eyes closed nearly shut. His fist clenched tight on the hilt of his dagger. Disgust filled his chest cavity as he watched them from high in his perch at the edge of the woods.<p>

_She lives …the witch lives! How in fucking hells did she escape? We burned her I was there I watched it burn to the ground. She truly is a witch. _Midir groaned to himself. _There will be hell to pay for all of us once he finds out she lives. Wait until he finds out she is with his worst enemy that godsdamn fucking animal they dare call a scout._

He climbed down from the huge tree and scurried like a rat to his horse. He quickly mounted as he rode off he looked back.

"Enjoy what little time you have ," he growled. "You will not escape him this time bitch!

**To be continued…**


	22. It had to end this way

**Disclaimer: blah blah blah I don't own the knights only what you don't recognize. Touchstone pictures does have them in a vice grip though~~dash it all.**

**Thanks as always to xXRoweenaJAugustineXx, ShiloCoulter and brandibuckeye for the reviews. And thank you for reading and sending PM's. Your loyalty and desire to read this story has been heartfelt. Thank you so much**

**So here we are at the end of the story, although in our minds it lives on. There will be an epilogue forth coming. Thank you again for the support. I am closing out To Love A Wolf next.**

**Enjoy~~~~**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22- It had to end this way<strong>

He sat near the fire, half listening to the others as they chatted on and on about what ever nonsense that passed through their minds. It was rubbish as far as he was concerned. They were soaked to the bones. The rain began about an hour or so ago and there was no escaping it. The usual down pour this island seemed so well equipped to provide them when they were on patrols. He despised the rain, despised this place. He could not wait for his time to be up so he could take his family back home. Start a new life with them far from here and forget any memory he had of these past years.

He had been teaching Rowan to speak his native language. The girl had an amazing ability to pick new things up and languages were no exception. The pair spoke Sarmatian most of the time; she even had taken to speaking it with the other knights, learning their different dialects. Fiona tried and was getting better but Rowan was a natural. He smiled and let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. All eyes turned to him. He growled and continued sharpening his weapons as the rain pounded heavily against his body.

Finally the rain stopped after its unrelentless borage on the knights. At least they might find some sort of sleep tonight. It was not long before the men settled in for the night. All but Tristan, he had decided that he would carry on with the patrol.

"He only wants to get closer to the fort so he might have his woman by his side," called out Galahad from his bedding.

He glared at the whelp as his leg crossed over the saddle and he settled in its seat.

"What would you know of any of it whelp," he was heard to snort as he clicked his tongue several times motioning the horse to get a move on.

He longed for the warmth of her body next to his or the smell of her hair dancing through his nostrils and if riding on through the night meant that he was one day closer to waking next to her than all be damned he would.

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><p><strong>Two days later<strong>

Word had gotten to the fort that the knights were on their way back. As always this caused great excitement to all the inhabitants of Badon especially the wenches in the tavern. There was always much to do to prepare for their arrival.

On the outskirts of the fort in their cottage Fiona and Rowan were busy in the kitchen. Each tending to must needed duties. Rowan had found a tipped over nest and one lone Robin fledgling left to fend for itself. She took it upon herself to become the bird's savior and guardian.

"Papa will be home in a day or so and I shall be so happy to show him the baby bird I rescued," Rowan chanted happily at the breakfast table.

"Yes, Rowan he will," Fiona stated as she prepared some salve mixtures for the healing room.

A sharp pain hit her causing her to straighten up and grab her belly with both hands. Her lips meshed together as her eyes clenched tightly, a crease came across her brow.

"What is it Màthair," the child called out with concern. "Is the bairn coming? Should I fetch Vanora?"

"No, no child not just yet," she whispered between false contractions. "Your brother is just preparing for his grand entrance is all…nothing to worry about."

Within moments, just as quickly as the pain consumed her body it was gone. She bent over the mixing bowl on the table and continued her duties as Rowan held her newest rescue in her lap feeding it bits of ground worms and squished bug guts.

"I will have to go to the woods shortly Rowan to collect more roots, mushrooms and leaves for the salve," Fiona asked as she covered the bowl with a cloth. "Will you be alright here alone?"

"May I go to the fort and play with 7 and 9," she inquired. "Their cat just had a batch of babies and I would like to see them."

"Yes," Fiona chuckled as she gathered her pouch. "But do not even think of bringing one home, we have enough animals here as it is."

Rowan creased her brow as she lifted the fledgling to her lips and kissed it. Jumping up she placed it in a box that Tristan had carved for the thing. She ran to her mother and hugged her.

"I won't be long Rowan," she called out as the child bolted out the door.

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><p>The weather was perfect for gathered the roots she needed. After the down pour of rain the earth around the roots would make the task much simpler. Fiona gathered berries for a pie she would make for Tristan later in the day. He had come to relish with great delite her elderberry pies. After much searching she found the needed roots for the salve and set about in her task to collect them. Again the sharp pain came on her without any warning. She bent over braced herself with one hand on her left knee the other against an oak.<p>

"Oh son of mine please have a little mercy upon your mother will you not? I have much to do before your father's return," she whispered in Sarmatian to her unborn child.

Once again the pain subsided and she continued on with her task. Just around a small bend in the path Fiona found the roots she had been looking for. She removed the pouch from her shoulder and placed it on the ground. Slowly and carefully she bent down so she was sitting on her legs tucked under her, ankles crossed. She began diligently excavating the roots. The moist warm rich dark soil felt wonderful. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, listening to all the wonderful sounds that filled the forest. After a few moments of peace and contentment Fiona once again began tilling the roots.

She heard a snap of twigs and branches, the sound made by footsteps. She paused, there was silence.

"Rowan," she called out. "Is it you petal?"

There was no reply. Nor was there any more sound. Most likely a deer crossing nearby she brushed it off and continued working.

A few moments passed before she heard a sound she had not heard in some time.

"Fiona…Fiona," he gutturally growled.

Her heart stopped, then immediately began to race as though it would burst from the very cavity within her chest that it dwelled. Her hands tightened around the roots and soil she gathered causing them to splatter into pieces.

_No, it could not be him, no please by all the gods no, not him not now_ she prayed, her eyes clenched tightly shut.

As her eyes opened she looked up to see his dreaded ominous figure step out from behind a massive tree.

"You truly must be a witch with magical powers to have survived your burning," he groaned taking a few more paces closer to her. "Midir told me you lived but I could not believe it to be so. I had to come see for myself," his voice grumbling. "He saw you with that _scout_." The hatred in his voice sent chills up her spine.

She slowly moved her hand to grab the hilt of her dagger lying on the ground next to her. No sooner had she gripped it when her hand felt the pressure from his boot.

He roared with laughter at her bravery. His voice bellowed through the woods like the sound of thunder. Surly this new found bravery was something she had picked up bedding with that filthy animal Sarmatian he thought. His hand grabbed a fistful of hair by the roots and pulled her up. It was then that he noticed her protruding belly.

He stared at her his face twisting into some evil formation. His face moved in closer to hers.

"You carry a child," he snorted at her. "Who is the father of this bastard child?"

She did not answer him. She knew from experience that saying anything at this point would only worsen the harm that was already to befall her.

He shook his fist that had hold of her hair causing her head to shake violently.

"Whose seed grows in your belly wench," he yelled loudly. His breath was like fire against her skin. "Do not try me."

"I do not know who fathered the child," she whispered, her words choking back the tears she dare not shed.

"You bed with him," he cursed at her. "I told you Fiona, you are mine."

His hand shook violently shaking her head and along with it her entire body.

"Please," she begged. "My child." She whispered.

Sèitheach stood over her looking down, his lips twisting and turning as his eyes tightened to near slits.

"I told you Fiona," he began. "You belong to me and no other. You are my woman!" He snapped. "If I cannot have you neither will he."

Her eyes widen as the warmth from the blood spat out slowly, dribbling down across the white skin of her chest as the dagger tip slowly broke the skin. The intent was not to rush the pain of the blade's entry. The desired outcome was achieved as the blade pressed farther inward just at the point of the neck's base. His grip tightened its hold around the nape of her neck drawing her closer to his chest when he felt her trying to pull away from him. The gurgling sound echoed in her head. She struggled to free herself, placing her hands on his now blood stained clothing.

Fear raced through her body for her unborn child as his grip tightened. Tears welled in her eyes.

The weight of the injured body pressed back on his chest as it fell against him. The last sound Sèitheach heard was the low husky foreign accent of his enemy.

"The woman _is mine_," he snarled. "And so is the child," the Scout growled in his ear as he pulled the hilt deep dagger blade from Sèitheach's neck.

Sèitheach's dying body fell to the forest floor between the two. Fiona, covered with his blood stood in shock unable to move, her hands protectively covered her unborn child. She began to shake uncontrollably.

Tristan lifted her in his arms, taking her to a nearby tree where he placed her on the ground.

"Stay here," he command in a tone she had not heard from his lips in some time.

He returned to where Sèitheach lay, leaned down, grabbed a fist of his hair and slit his throat.

"She is _mine_," he growled, their faces nearly touching.

His body jerked and quivered with life's last breath in him.

Tristan returned to Fiona. Her hands desperately tried to wipe Sèitheach's blood from her body. The Scout sat down braced himself against the tree and took her in his hold. He cradled her against his chest, placed his hand on her belly.

"You both belong to me," he whispered.

**FINIS**

**Again, all my thanks and love...look forward to the epilogue coming shortly...**


	23. Epilogue: The Scent of a Woman

**Disclaimer: The usual….**

**A SPECIAL thanks to Homeric (whose stories I adore), ShiloCoulter, Jen, xXRoweenaJAugustineXx and of course brandibuckeye for reviewing the last chapter also to all those of you faithful for your emails, marking this story in your favorites and alerts and for all those who read it and hopefully enjoyed it. Tamlynn and Bunny thanks so much for all your thoughts and support!**

**Katie aka girl in the library corner—thank you for all your amazing points and suggestions…you are the best pair of eyes….**

**And to my beautiful Katherine for all your support…..I love you**

**Well here we are at the epilogue…I must say that it is bittersweet for me. I hope you have enjoyed this storyline as much as I have enjoyed developing it. It was a wonderful stretch for me as an author and I feel my writing has grown tremendously. I am looking forward to writing the sequel about Rowan and Lucan. **

**BUT FIRST~~~ I am finishing up **_**To Love a Wolf and Lost Soul**_**. Then I have to work on **_**Unexpected Liaisons**_** PLUS I have two stories dancing around in my mind that want so desperately to come to life but I told them they all had to stay in there until I completed these other stories~~at which point there began a lot of yelling and protesting going on, at that point I had to come before Arthur in the round table chamber and bequest he send the "Scout" in there to keep a little order!**

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><p><strong>Cast of character's for this chapter:<strong>

**Rowan- 16 years old's at this point in time**

**Alynore and Bren 7 year old twin sons to Tristan and Fiona**

**Iwain 9 year old son to Tristan and Fiona**

**Lucan 17 year old boy taken in by Dagonet and Katie**

**Aryas and Marcus 7 year old twin sons to Dagonet and Katie**

**Brumear (called Bru by the other knights) knight of the round table, now instructor of young knights under Arthur's new reign.**

**English inches are traditionally divided into 12 Lines. English inches are also defined as being the length of "Three good sized barleycorns  
>placed end to end".<strong>

**Check out the updated blog for this story on my profile! I think you will be happy with the actors I chose! I hope so.**

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><p><strong>Epilogue: The scent of a woman<strong>

"Watch your weak side Lucan," shouted Brumear, one of the instructors for Arthur's young knight's training squad. Brumear was one of the largest, most burly, and massive Sarmatian Knights like Dagonet. He was known among the Woads as the giant from the mountain lands. He was firm, tough and unforgiving when it came to training the young knights. Battle was no festival and training shouldn't be either as far as he was concerned. He had been recruited into the new forces after Rome left, Arthur became king, the Saxons were defeated and uniting the land needed a firm hand.

"Damn it all, how many times do you have to be hit before you remember your blind side?" he shouted sternly at the young knight.

Lucan's head bowed near to the dirt, braced on his elbows and one knee he contemplated yielding but knew his father was watching. Yielding was not something he had the option to do. If Dag had taught his sons anything it was the pride of being a Sarmatian (even if Lucan was not blood Sarmatian he carried the heritage within him). Dag instilled this deep rooted pride in Lucan and his 7 year old twins, Aryas and Marcus.

"Godsdamnit all….. fuck sake," Bru muttered under his breath in exasperation, forcibly kicking his boots against the hard ground, stomped off toward the fence. "Get out of my fuckin sight the lot of you, get yourselves a drink then regroup." He roared.

Lucan slowly pulled himself up off the ground, humiliated by letting Sher defeat him that way. He stormed off out of the arena forcibly knocking into anyone he could.

"He is not focused on his task at hand as of late," heavy sigh escaped from Dag's chest as he watched his son struggle. His head shook from side to side. "He knows better…he knows better, what is in that mind of his?" He muttered out loud to himself.

"It's the scent…the godsdamns fucking _scent _that has your son all a pissfucked… like a damn bitch in heat," growled Bru. He braced himself on the fence post looked out towards the fort, squinted his eyes and murmured. "That godsdamn scent."

"The scent," eyes closed shut, lips meshed together, he was not ready for what this sort of thing would bring. Hoped that he could avoid the power _the scent_ had on his son just a little while longer. "You think it's that?" Hands clasped, arms extended on the fence, left leg bent back as he stretched his large form.

"It never changes does it?" Brumear let out a low chuckle shaking his own head as he remembered the days when he was just a young whelp. "The power those minxes have on us, no matter how hard we run from it, they never fail in entrapping us in their soft sensual snares, wielding us senseless…utterly worthless."

"I was never like that," Dag sputtered with a half groan-half laugh.

"For fucksake Dagonet…ole friend, think back to when we were his age," he laughed. "Wasn't that all any of us cared about, dreamed about night and day? Yes, the smell of their scent, those soft sweet oils and herbs they use to draw us in making, us desire the warmth of their flesh." He paused, lifted his head as though he was inhaling the sweet smell of some captivating scent within his chest cavity, and remembered some fond memory from long ago. Bru placed his hands in his leathers, adjusted his manhood and grunted. "None of us knew what the hell to do once we finally got one them. Nothing but release in our leathers the minute a soft hand touched us there." Tilting his head back he sneered at the recollection of youthful frustration.

"We were never his age Bru," he said whispered respectively. "You and I were always old."

"I suppose we weren't were we," head tilted sideways catching his friend eye to eye, he chuckled. "No, we weren't." He turned around bracing his large frame against the post with his elbows, eyes slit near shut as he looked to the sky. He was deep in memories when he let out a roaring belly shaking laugh, chin hitting chest.

"Enjoyed that did you?" Dag leaned his head over to his friend.

"Do you remember that fiery, yellow- haired forger's daughter that you chased for months?" Bru snorted, rubbed his upper hand under his breaded chin.

Laughing under his breath Dag looked in the other direction, trying to refrain from the memory.

"You remember, you were bout the same age as Lucan," he rolled out a laugh. "I will never forget the look on your face when her father and I walked in and he caught the pair of you in the stables. Her with her legs in the air and you with your cock hilt deep inside her." His laughter bellowed throughout the arena, causing all young eyes to cast their way, as laughing was not something that Bru did often. "He chased your bare ass with that iron rod of his for near a mile. Lucky for you, you were thinner back then with long legs to out run him." Again his head tilted back roaring with laughter.

"You are enjoying this a little too much my friend," Dag stood erect stretching his chest out, brows creased as he glared into Bru's face.

Bru stood in front of Dag, placed his hands on his shoulders and squeezed. Dag looked over his right shoulder at the group of young boys gathered in the center of the arena waiting for their instructor to return. He caught Lucan eye and cast a reassuring smile.

"I wonder who she is, this little minx that has my son all pissfucked,"

"Come now Dag, you cannot be serious?" Bru stated in astonishment before casting a nod with his head to the opposite side of the arena. "It's her, that one over there."

"Rowan!" Dag shouted causing all eyes to turn his way. She heard her name called aloud, looked up from restringing her bow, then looked in the direction of where it came, and raised her brow in a questioning manner of curiosity. "Ah, nothing little one," he replied, desperate to over correct his outburst with a smile and wave at the young girl.

Her brows knitted as she went back to her task of restringing her bow. She spent much of her time at the training arenas practicing her archery. She had become one of the best bowmen, no doubt due to who her father was. Tristan had seen to it that all four of his children excelled in archery and tracking.

"Yes, Rowan, none other than the Scout's daughter…of all the females in this fort _your_ son would choose her," Bru chuckled.

"May the gods help him," Dag laughed, head shaking from side to side. "Not sure who will be harder on him, Tris or Rowan."

"Lucan will have to ask that miserable, snot crusty bastard for his permission to court her, you do know that," Bru's face bore that unmistakable smile he was so famous for. A smile that was as wicked as tempestuous sky.

"By all the gods," Dag merely muttered.

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><p><strong>Spoken in Sarmatian-<strong>

"You fall out of that tree Iwain and your mother will tack my hide to the side of the stable like a drying pelt," the Scout chuckled as he watched his oldest son climb like a squirrel up the side of the tree trunk.

"I won't father, I am a champion climber," the young boy hollered back to the Scout. He was climbing a tall oak tree.

"I want to climb too father," Alynore shouted as small hands tugged at his father's tunic.

"Too high Nor…you'll have to wait till you're a bit bigger son." A caring gentle hand took hold on the boy's shoulder as his watched the dark haired child's head drop down. Tristan laughed and pulled his young son near to him. "It won't be long son and you'll be as big as Iwain."

"I am nearly the same age as he father… it is not fair," the young voice grumbled, dark brooding eyes glared upward.

"You will find many things in life are not fair son…best you get use to that," he knelt down taking the boy by the hips, foreheads resting against each other. "Patience Nor…you will be grown before you know it." A sudden jerk was felt on his back as Bren jumped aboard wrapping small arms around his father's neck.

"Mother says that I have grown six good sized barleycorns placed end to end since the last moon," Bren chanted over his father's shoulder.

"Is that all, only six barleycorns…I thought it were more like ten," the Scout chuckled flipping Bren over his shoulder into his lap. Enfolding both his son's close he began to tickle the young boys into a roaring high pitched laughter.

"I've got it father," Iwain shouted tucking the falcon fledgling into his shirt before making his decent. Carefully Iwain made his way down the mighty tree, shimming down the last bit. For sure he was a champion climber. Once his feet hit the ground he ran to his father and brothers clutching the small bird tenderly within his clothing.

"I want to see, let me see the baby falcon," Nor jumped up and down.

"Be still you stupid git," Iwain snarled. "You will wake the entire forest."

"Do not call me a stupid git or I shall…." Nor grumbled fiercely, just before he saw the stern look upon his father's face. Tristan did not have to raise his voice when disciplining his children. All that was needed was a stern look crossing his brow and they all stepped into line.

His right brow cocked, long shaggy braided locks cascading across his face, he looked upon his oldest son. Without saying a word the message was relayed. Iwain knew precisely what his father meant.

"I am sorry Nor…I should not have called you a stupid git," his hand reached over to his brother's hair, he rubbed Nor's head. Slowly his hand slipped in his tunic to retrieve the young fledgling. There was a quiet gasp from the twin's. Tristan smiled as he watched the wonderment in his young son's eyes. Iwain knelt down, father and sons now in a circle, the young falcon fledgling placed in Tristan cupped hands. The boys took turns gently stroking the bird.

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><p><strong>Later that afternoon:<strong>

"Look mother…look what we rescued," Bren shouted with glee bouncing into the threshold of the cottage doorway.

Turning to the sound of her children as they entered the house she smiled. She caught sight of her handsomely rugged husband walk in, which always managed put a smile on her face. She wiped her hands on her apron before encircling her son's body, kissing his head.

"Let's see what the latest animal you have brought home might be," she said with laughter. "One day you shall bring back a giant bear. Oh, look….both living and _dead_ animals," she stated casting her eyes on the dead hare dangling from her man's hand as he held it up proudly. His prize. They caught each other in a gaze, he winked, and she blushed. Yes, he could still make her blush after all these children and all these years. He and he alone could make her heart skip its very beat and blush her cheeks the brightest hue of red.

Iwain brought the fledgling to his mother gently placing it in her hands. She watched as her husband kicked his boots off, placing his bow and quiver in the nitch just by the door. His eyes never left her form. She still had the same effect on him….his woman. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath; he took in her scent…the scent of his woman. It was a magical mixture of lavender, herbs and oils she used.

His head slightly bent down so his wild shaggy braided locks covered his eyes, hiding behind them as he approached her, stalking her like he would his prey. He had that look of wanton desire in his eyes for her still.

Fiona handed the bird back to Iwain at which point the three offspring of the Scout scurried past their father like leaves to the wind. Tristan's hand rubbing the tops of his sons' heads as they ran passed him. They quickly vanished to the stable to prepare a nesting place for the new found hawk.

Fiona turned and braced herself against the counter's edge. He was approaching, she could feel him. Her eyes fluttered close as his hands slid across her hips, palms pressing against her stomach as he pulled her close. Instinctively she tilted her head, pulling her hair to one side; she could feel him chuckle against her back. He moaned. She groaned as the heat from his open mouth trailed from the base of her neck to the back of her ear.

"My lord," she whispered breathlessly. "Your offspring continue to rescue wild animals, bringing them home for me to tend to. I have enough wild beasts to care for with you and your seed running about." Her voice low and teasing.

"That is because their mother," speaking between intermittent kisses, he pulled her tighter against him she could feel his hardness against the small of her back. "…..is so very good at _taming _wild beasts," he growled spinning her around and capturing her mouth with his own.

Breaking the kiss for a mere second, "My lord, I prefer keeping _my_ beast wild and untamed, as I prefer him much better that way," she purred as his mouth buried itself in her cleavage.

Heavy rough hands roamed down trembling legs, gathering dress material as they went until they were free to caress the warm silky flesh of her thighs. Her hands instinctively roamed across tight muscled abs and waist till they found the buckles and latches of his leather, hastily undoing them in heated desire. His hands cupped the back of her thighs, hoisting her up as they laced around him. Soon long slender legs hooked themselves together at the ankles, braced on the small of his back. Their kiss filled with the passion, need and hunger only they could satisfy for each other.

Heads tilted back as the intense heat of pleasure was felt driving deep within her.

He claimed his woman, right then, right there just as he had done so many times since their union. He would never get enough of the scent of his woman.

**To be continued…..** **in the sequel…**

**Again thank you all for your supoort!**

**Laura**


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